Till the End of His Days
by Nacey
Summary: An AU fic on the life of Frodo Baggins after he returns from his Quest.
1. Concerning the Ringbearer

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books. Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring. DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not properly edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. This is just to air the idea and to see what others think of it, so I know whether to bother publishing it on the net or whether to keep it amongst my close friends. I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter One - Concerning the Ringbearer.  
  
Frodo Baggins was, as a rule, considered to be a very strange, very odd, hobbit. The Baggins name had been one held in high esteem for many years, at least until Bilbo set out on his very first adventure with a band of swarthy Dwarven folk and, sadly, since that day things had never been the same for the Bagginses. Frodo had never known much respect. Oh, it was given to him, as no hobbit would dare turn their nose at their rich influential folk, and not at the Bagginses at least, who were rumoured to be the richest in the Shire. The fact that Frodo had inherited all that Bilbo had, and was half Took, did not please the other Baggins in Hobbiton, least of all the Sackville-Bagginses, who were widely regarded indeed.  
  
These little things, these in-clan bickerings and disputes, were abandoned like chaff in the breeze when the invasion of the Men ripped the Shire apart. Frodo remembered keenly, escorting his dear Aunt Lobelia from the cramped decrepit hold she and other rebellious hobbits had been shut into, a mere shadow of the strong opinionated hobbit-lady she had been before the Men had come. Any ill will or conflicts they had ever had collapsed away to nothing, and he embraced the lady warmly, his heart twisting painfully to see her in her terrible state. He cried deeply when she died that year.  
  
The strangest thing that clung through all this pain, the strangest thing that the hobbits held onto, was their secret and quiet disapproval of Frodo. He was still considered rather peculiar, and the rest of the Shire had no idea whatsoever what he did for them, what he sacrificed so that they could keep what they had to a certain extent. And he knew very well that they didn't really care to know. They had Sam, Pippin and Merry, their heroes of the hour, and all lauded them and praised them highly. Frodo came to expect it, and on some level it saddened him, deep down within him, but mostly he didn't mind. He was too busy with other pains, with the scars that his journey had left him with, and he enjoyed the peace and quiet that unpopularity had brought him.  
  
That's why it surprised him when there was a soft knocking upon the newly repainted door at Bag Hall. This puzzled Frodo greatly, for he was not expecting anyone to be visiting. Sam and Rose were tending to the gardens together, and restoring much of the damage done to the Hill. And besides, should they want to enter, they would have done, with perhaps a nod of their heads or an acknowledgement to their Master, Frodo. He was quite curious as to just who would think to visit him.  
  
Upon opening the door he saw one of the ladies from town. She was of Peregrin and Meriadoc's age, some twenty years shy of Frodo's, and her round sweet cheeks were rosy and full. Looking upon such a face that seemed never to have been touched by the savage darkness that lay beyond awoke a pain inside of Frodo, and he fought to keep a soft welcoming look on his face. He knew this young lady as Periwinkle Proudfoot, and of all the Proudfeet, was one of the sweeter about the face. Her eyes were large, a warm brown that was common amongst hobbits and the round face had a button nose that was blunt at the end, and red chiselled lips that were full in parts. She was very much the vision of hobbitly beauty, as beautiful as hobbits were considered in the wider world, which wasn't much at all. Their features weren't doted upon amongst the rest of the Middle Earth folk; then again hobbits were very much ignored outside the Shire altogether. He had seen this lass often in the Markets and about town, and on the day where the young folk of Hobbiton visited the Green Dragon she was there in a pretty dress, clapping and singing to music. He stood there for a long moment, wondering why she would want to visit him of all people. Periwinkle shuffled her long furry feet and brought forward a basket, curved brows lifting.  
  
"Begging your pardon, Sir, Mr. Mayor," she stuttered, "I hope I've not interrupted you during some important business."  
  
He found himself shaking his head, and for a moment was lost for words. He hadn't spoken to anyone other than his cousins, Sam or other such male-folk folk in years. He'd certainly not made it a habit since his return to speak to young lasses. He quite simply forgot how to. Looking to the space between them, he stepped forward, remembering himself. "Uhm... Of course not, Miss Periwinkle. What brings you here?"  
  
A blush rose in her already red round cheeks, and she lifted the basket. "Well, Mr. Baggins, I was thinking of all the wonderful things you've done for the Shire of late, and I thought of how tired you looked when you came back Sir, if you'll forgive me for noticing. And Diamond - you know Diamond, yes?"  
  
Frodo nodded faintly.  
  
"Yes well she always talks of Master Pippin, and all the town speak of him and Merry like they were Lords from the very King's own court-"  
  
"They are," said Frodo. "Of a sort."  
  
Perry blanched. "Yes well, again, begging your pardon, it's all well and good to praise them. They deserve all the praise that they've gotten, I agree. But I can't help noticing that people very much tend to overlook all that you've done."  
  
He blinked, staring at the young woman in some surprise.  
  
"So," she said, continuing as if doing so would rid her cheeks of the blush renewed from Frodo's puzzled gaze: "I thought that I'd make a little something for you. I went by Farmer Maggot's the other day, as I was going there anyway you see, and Master Samwise said you liked his mushrooms so-"  
  
It was now Frodo's turn to blush. For a hobbit that had never left the Shire, Farmer Maggot was some distance. Hobbits that didn't live around the Bucklands took time to go there to get the very best mushrooms to be had, but usually it was a rare trip to get a large stock and then to return.  
  
"You went all that way?" he muttered without thought.  
  
Her large brown eyes widened. "As I said, I was going there anyway, for my Ma."  
  
"Doesn't Fredegar Bolger's son make the trip to Maggot's for them?"  
  
Perry looked as if she had been caught picking flowers from Daisy Chubb's garden. Shame tinged her cheeks. "I went along for the trip, Sir, to make sure the very best were saved for you."  
  
The thought of Farmer Maggot's prize mushrooms made his stomach tighten and rumble in anticipation, but reason and modesty took a hold of the rest of his self. "You needn't have-"  
  
"Oh!" Perry put her hand over her mouth and pointed to the basket. "I nearly forgot. Master Gamgee also helped me make these cakes that I know you so like... just like Bilbo used to make, he says."  
  
Frodo felt a fresh pain spring within, and he gave a faint smile to ward off any ill looks that might have slipped to Perry. "This is all very kind of you, Miss Perry," he said, "But Sam and Rose take very good care of me." He sighed a little. "I would hate to think that you would wear yourself out on my account."  
  
Much to his shame, hurt welled in the eyes of Perry, and she stuttered, shuffling her feet once more. "Well - I mean I - "  
  
"I am sorry," he said suddenly. "I've been writing solidly this morning, and I've forgotten my manners. Please - come in. We will share the cakes at least."  
  
Perry gave an odd curtsey and stepped in, looking about the place as if something horrible might jump out of a corner any moment. It hadn't been too long since 'Sharky' had been dispensed of, and the fear that had welled at Bag Hall haunted it still.  
  
"Please be comfortable," Frodo said, guiding the hobbit lady to the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea."  
  
"Thank you," said Perry, the tenseness in her lifting some. "As I was saying before, if you don't mind me continuing-"  
  
Frodo glanced up and shook his head, before getting back to putting the kettle on.  
  
"You just looked so tired on your return. And I remembered you all those years ago at Bilbo's eleventy-first party, and you seemed so different then. Like a spring that didn't know of winter."  
  
He turned as she said that, meeting her eyes. That day felt lifetimes away, and he could remember himself, dancing merrily, his thumbs hooked under his suspenders as he kicked his legs to the sound of the flutes and drums. He looked to himself now, altogether more drawn and thin. Since that time, he felt no will to sing, and dancing was a sport he wouldn't use again. As these thoughts ran through his mind, his old wound in his shoulder thrummed in dull pain. He rubbed the scar absently as he pulled some cups from his cupboards. He fixed the tea, and sliding Perry a cup he sat across from her at the table.  
  
"I wondered why you were so weary, why you'd changed so," said Perry, continuing on. She tilted her head and ran her fingertip around the rim of her cup. "Diamond didn't know anything, but I dared to ask Master Peregrin. Forgive my inquisitiveness," she said, blushing behind a hand. "It troubled me to see you so sad. Something behind your eyes changed."  
  
Frodo swallowed, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"Oh I am sorry, Mr. Baggins!" Perry exclaimed, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "That was rude of me!"  
  
He found it in himself to look at her now, and he gave a shadow of a smile. "You were merely being observant, Miss Periwinkle." A terrible thought occurred to him then, and he looked to Periwinkle once more. "So, what did Pippin tell you of me?"  
  
Perry looked guilty, and she shrugged. "He told me of your quest, er... mission... thing. It was then I understood why you have changed so. What I gathered for you is but a trifle of what you deserve." She looked down to her tea and seemed to shrink a little. "What that I could give it to you."  
  
"It is enough that you know," Frodo said, meaning that in many ways. Still, it wouldn't have done for him to be angry in front of Periwinkle because of Pippin's loose tongue. He forced a smile to his face and looked to the basket. "Those cakes! I very nearly forgot about them."  
  
Perry couldn't help but smile as Frodo lifted the cloth covering the contents of the basket, and he let out a soft gasp. His anger slipped away as he saw the bounty before him. She must have wrestled these out of Maggot's very own hands, he thought. From the basket he pulled a field mushroom the size of a saucer, nay larger, and his blue eyes twinkled merrily.  
  
"These are the finest mushrooms I've ever seen!"  
  
"Mr. Gamgee said he'd helped Farmer Maggot restore his farm after Sharky had had his way with everything."  
  
Frodo smiled knowingly - Galadriel's gift. Of course, of course. He nodded, smiling graciously. "This is wonderful, Perry. You must stay and help me cook these. You went so far for them and you must be thanked in proper order!"  
  
Perry blushed, looking to her tea. "Oh, t'is really nothing, Mr. Baggins."  
  
"Just call me Frodo," he smiled, placing the large mushroom carefully back and unwrapping one of the cakes. He sniffed it and sighed. "Yes, yes. This takes me back to afternoons with dear Bilbo." For a moment, those large blue eyes became dewy, and he stilled. He looked to Perry then, smiling fondly. "This is really very kind of you."  
  
The lady-hobbit couldn't help but laugh, the ever-present blush burning. "Dear me, Frodo! All I did was bring you a bite to eat to make your days a little lighter. Many would have said less 'Thank you's and had more thoughts of eating!"  
  
"Food is to be enjoyed, Perry, and doubly so the generosity and kindness of others," said Frodo. "To take it for granted is to dishonour the gesture." With that he laid the cake on a plate and began to slice it up.  
  
The dark-haired girl tilted her head curiously. "Advice from when you had little of those things?"  
  
"Perhaps," Frodo said. He said no more about having little, and taking a small piece of the cake, he sampled it very carefully. Perry looked to him expectantly, and he gave a deep, appreciative sigh. "This is very good cake, Periwinkle."  
  
Perry smiled broadly, cheeks rosy and full.  
  
"Now, for the mushrooms!"  
  
"Let me help!" said Perry, jumping to her feet without a thought. Frodo pulled out some frying pans, and Perry dug around in the larder for butter and herbs. She cooed. "My, your herbs are very well ordered!"  
  
"Sam Gamgee's doing," said Frodo, stoking his stove. "They're always fresh too."  
  
Perry brought over some pepper and salt, and as Frodo began to cook the mushrooms, she added dashes of the condiments. So thrilled over the mushrooms was Frodo that for a little while the pains in his heart that he'd felt a moment ago faded into the background, almost forgotten. He smiled as he cooked, and so eager to sample the mushrooms was he that he plucked a morsel from the pan and blew on it, eating it straight from the fire. He patted his stomach the flavour was so wonderful, and he brought the fork to Perry's mouth and offered her a bite. She took it, and clapped in elation.  
  
"Make no mistake, Mr. Baggins, Old Maggot has the best mushrooms in the whole of the Shire!"  
  
Frodo shared out the mushrooms with his guest, and this said much of his graciousness, considering how very much he loved mushrooms. They sat across from each other at the table, plates full of steaming hot fried mushrooms, warm cups of tea at hand. For the most part the hobbits spoke little as they consumed the food, but they found themselves looking to each other and smiling fondly. Ever since his return, Frodo rarely had any private company besides Sam and the other hobbits of the fellowship, except Rosie of course, and despite the fact that this visit was thoroughly unexpected, after the initial shock of her arrival he began to enjoy Periwinkle's company. After finishing off the mushrooms Frodo cut up some cake, and the two of them sat and nibbled it, sipping their sweet tea and ignoring the sunlight in the window grow lower in the sky and more golden. Perry told Frodo of all that she did during the recent ravaging of the Shire, and little stories of her family and her brothers. Frodo didn't go at all into his business with the One Ring, but he did tell her of some of the more pleasant experiences; the Elves, Rivendell and some of his cousin's more ridiculous adventures.  
  
They'd spent such a long time chatting, food and tea abandoned and conversation feeding them alone, that it was a surprise when Sam came trotting in from his gardening, taking off his wide-brimmed hat and putting it on one of the multitudinous hooks. He gave a warm smile to Frodo, bowing slightly, Rosie stepping in after Sam and giving her usual bright smile that was set off by her unusual golden curls.  
  
"Hello there, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, rubbing his hands on his pants, "And how are we this afternoon?"  
  
Frodo's mouth opened, and he couldn't find any words. He finally spluttered. "What? Is it that time already?"  
  
Sam's smile gained a cheeky curl, and he nodded. "Why yes it is, Mr. Frodo, Sir. The sun is ready to go to bed!"  
  
Frodo glanced to the window, and shaking his head he sighed. "How the hours of this day flew by!"  
  
At this time Periwinkle was smiling at Frodo, quiet and withdrawn with the new company. Rosie stepped forward, and being the outgoing hobbit she was, squeezed Periwinkle's shoulder and hugged her fondly.  
  
"Hello, Perry!" she said. "You do look lovely today. Doesn't she look lovely Sam?"  
  
"Oh yes, cheeks are very merry and red," said Sam. "Just the right kind of cheery company Mr. Frodo needs."  
  
Subtlety was never Sam Gamgee's strong point, so upon hearing this Frodo tilted his head at Sam, giving him a stern look.  
  
"Sam."  
  
Sam lifted his brows.  
  
"You're going to embarrass our guest."  
  
Perry shrunk into her shoulders, blushing wildly. "It's all right, really. Uhm. I should get going." Periwinkle jumped to her feet, taking the now empty basket and curtseying to Frodo briefly. "Again, I'm sorry if I interrupted your day, Mr. Baggins."  
  
"You didn't, Perry," said Frodo. "In fact I haven't had such a lovely day in some time." This was very true.  
  
It brought a bright smile to Perry's face, and she curtseyed again nervously before racing out the door, bidding them all goodbye. In the silence that followed her departure, Sam gave a long satisfied smile, eyeing Frodo fully. Rosie tapped a foot, arms behind her back, eyes filled with laughter.  
  
"You two are incorrigible," said Frodo, standing up and still looking stern. He wagged a finger at Sam. "Did you suggest to her that she should come over here?"  
  
Sam looked wounded. "Why Mr. Frodo, I did nothing of the sort!"  
  
"I suggested it!" said Rosie, obviously trying to hold back her laughter. It was a clever thing for Rosie to admit to - she was a strong willed hobbit lady and quite imposing when she wanted to be. She knew Frodo wouldn't have the gall to give her a telling off, not if he wanted to deal with her killer stare. Frodo sighed, putting his face in his hands.  
  
"Yes, it seems like the sort of thing you would do, Rose."  
  
"And what of it, Mr. Frodo?" asked Rose, walking to the kitchen and putting the newly dirtied pans in water. "You know you could do a lot worse than Periwinkle Proudfoot! I know plenty of gentlehobbits interested in her, and for good reason! She's a pretty one, and she would make a wonderful wife!" She tapped her lip and then pointed to Frodo. "Probably even a better wife than me!"  
  
"No!" exclaimed Sam.  
  
"It doesn't matter kind of wife she would make," said Frodo, walking over to his fireplace and taking out his pipe. "You know that I'm perfectly happy the way things are."  
  
"Yes, I know that Mr. Frodo," said Rose. "I just don't see what harm a little female company would do you."  
  
"I think you're all the female company I need, Rose." Frodo looked wry as he lit his pipe. At this Sam frowned.  
  
"That may be, Sir, but I think you'd be better with a girl of your own!"  
  
"I thought it was clear that I don't want a girl at all," said Frodo.  
  
"You're a stubborn hobbit," said Rosie, shaking her head. "And you don't know what's good for you!"  
  
"Perhaps, but it is my decision in the end, and I won't have you both making designs behind my back." Frodo gave his friends a weathering smile, affection warm in his large blue eyes, and he had a long puff of his pipe. "I am going to write some more of my book. Mind yourselves, and no more scheming!"  
  
Rosie waved after him, shaking her head. As he left, she frowned to Sam.  
  
"Mr. Frodo lets himself wallow in his troubles far too much, Sam," she said, pulling out pots to make dinner. "It's not good for him."  
  
"Perhaps, Rosie, perhaps." Sam gave a sad frown. "He's been through much, my dear, much I daren't ever repeat."  
  
"That's true," said Rosie. She grinned to Sam then. "You know, I don't know if we'll need to be doing any designing at all! Perry was right taken with him, I think!"  
  
"I don't rightly know a girl in the Shire that doesn't think kindly of 'im, dear, despite 'is reputation." Sam rubbed his face, wincing. "D'ye think it was right to encourage her, though? Especially seein' as we know Frodo isn't keen on gettin' married."  
  
"I said it before, love; he doesn't know what's good for him!" She shook her head. "He's gone through a lot, aye, but I don't think he realises what good it'll do him. Like it or not, Perry's got a thing, and he'll have to deal with it one way or another."  
  
~~*~~ 


	2. A Day on the Meadow

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books. Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring. DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not properly edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. This is just to air the idea and to see what others think of it, so I know whether to bother publishing it on the net or whether to keep it amongst my close friends. I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Two - A Day on the Meadow  
  
Despite Sam and Rosie's interferences, Frodo had felt in an unusually good mood that evening which lasted well into the next day. It was quite a warm day that followed; the air was warm and a touch stifling. It was quite like the day that Gandalf had visited Bilbo and Frodo before the Ring mess had begun. Whether Frodo knew this, or whether it was something that touched his unconscious, it wasn't certain, but he felt the need to pull out one of his favourite old books and sit in the crook of the old tree he used to play under when he was a hobbit-child. He wasn't quite as nimble as he used to be, and he wasn't as quick up the tree, but being a hobbit he was more agile than a human of his equivalent age.  
  
As he read the book, all about the oldest hobbits, he stuffed his pipe with some fragrant Southfarthing pipeweed, the sound of sparrows twittering on the wing filling his ears. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there reading, when the sound of shrill hobbit-children laughter rang through the air. He rested his book in his lap, looking out onto the meadow that he'd gazed out on many a time before.  
  
From the road leading towards New Row and the rest of the Shire three hobbits broke into a run, tumbling out into the tall lush green grass that was scattered with daisies and dandelions. Two of the number were children - girls, with long golden hair that was so unusual but common now amongst the folk of the Shire, and a hobbit-lady. The last was well-curved lass in a summer-dress, the dark waved hair unmistakable. Periwinkle and her nieces, Frodo thought. Well it is a nice day; naturally they'd enjoy a nice run in the grass. He put his attention back to the book, fixing his thoughts to the words that ran on the pages. The children's laughter and talk didn't bother him all that much, through that noise he could do anything for he was well used to it, being a hobbit and all. It was the voice of Periwinkle that kept pulling him from deep concentration. It was rather disconcerting, as he couldn't find a logical reason for such a thing. With will reinforced, Frodo let his mind dive into the written word before him and get lost in it.  
  
"Oh you little rascal!"  
  
He clamped his eyes shut, sighing deeply. No, no matter what, he would not be able to concentrate this afternoon. He let the book fall shut in his lap, and bringing the pipe to his lips he looked out over onto the meadow to where Periwinkle was. Of a sudden, he felt a strangeness become him, a deep calming in his soul that he'd not felt before, not ever.  
  
Periwinkle sat amongst the grass, a warm smile on her soft chiselled lips, eyes brown like deep red-wood and hair black like the night, but gleaming a burnished red in the sun. The little children that played about her had threaded little daisies through her hair, and they looked as stars in the moonless night sky.  
  
Luthien Tinuviel. His mind recalled a snatch of the beautiful song that Aragorn had sung all those years ago. Tinuviel, Tinuviel.  
  
He shook himself, blinking and wondering at that. He supposed there was a certain lyric beauty in the image before him, of the young lass amongst the grass and so much a vision of the beauty of the Shire that he loved. There was something about it that was very comforting to him, and he felt he could sit and watch this particular scene for some time without tiring of it. All in all, it made him smile. She is another part of the Shire that eases my pains, he thought. Yes, that is it.  
  
Periwinkle's flowery dress swept low, curls tumbling down her shoulders, and she clapped her hands in time as she sang with the children. The children bounced and sang, their voices carrying over the grass. He knew the song; it was a song about cows jumping over moons.  
  
"Well, I shan't get any more reading done out here today," he said to himself, and slowly and quietly he lowered himself down from the tree. As his feet met the grass below, they snapped a twig laying there. The full crack echoed against the trees behind him, and the hobbits in the meadow stopped their singing and looked up.  
  
At that moment Perry's face lit up, a broad smile gracing her.  
  
"Well, it's Mr. Baggins," she said, more for the children than for anyone else. "Say hello to him my dears."  
  
He gave a somewhat stiff smile, but seeing the glee on the children's faces he walked over, tucking his empty pipe into his shirt pocket. He knelt down in the grass with the children, and they clapped happily.  
  
"Hello Mr. Baggins!" said the girl he knew as Poppy.  
  
"Mr. Baggins!" echoed Holly.  
  
"You saved everyone," said Poppy, placing her little hands on his shoulder. "Are you a hero like Mr. Pippin?"  
  
"I'm just a regular hobbit like anyone else in the Shire, Poppy."  
  
"I wouldn't say that," said Periwinkle, suddenly paying extra close attention to a daisy in her hair.  
  
"Sing us a song!" cried Holly, leaping up and down. Poppy was at the other side of Frodo, already beginning to thread daisies into his hair.  
  
Frodo tilted his brows, looking a little awkward. "I'm not very good at singing."  
  
Periwinkle frowned at this, but said nothing.  
  
"We'll make you a crown," said Poppy, heedless to his decline. "And you can be King Aragorn. We can be the princesses."  
  
Frodo couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of playing the role of his old friend Strider. He cleared this throat then, trying to look serious, but laughter clearly in his features. "Er. does that mean your Aunt Perry is Queen Arwen?"  
  
"Of course!" said Holly. To this, Periwinkle only blushed. "Now a song!"  
  
"Oh don't bother Mr. Baggins with that," Periwinkle said suddenly, placing her hand on Holly's. "I'll sing you a song, all right?"  
  
Holly pouted. "But I want Mr. Baggins to sing."  
  
"I've not done it in so long that I've become terrible at it," said Frodo. He smiled a little then. "If I did sing, it would sound so bad it would make you cry."  
  
"What if I sing you a song," Perry said, "and then Mr. Baggins can tell us a story?"  
  
The children nodded and bounced, agreeing to this.  
  
Frodo looked to Perry then, and she began to clap and sing to the children. He could tell she was nervous as her voice trilled in places in a tense way, but despite this there was an irresistible honesty in her voice that he found endearing. The girls leapt in the grass and threw daisy petals about. After a time they lost their shyness (what little they had) and started climbing on Frodo's frame, on his shoulders, or snuggling to his side momentarily before leaping off into another bout of dancing. All this time Perry sang, growing more confident as she went. Frodo was content to watch the scene before him, and to receive more flowers in his hair from the children.  
  
They played there for some hours, the sun hot on their backs, the children weaving royal finery out of grass and flowers and placing them on the supposed royal heads of Hobbiton. After a time it began to grow a little too hot for play in the open sunshine and the children began to lose their vigour, complaining about their hunger. Frodo stood up slowly, folding his hands behind his back and looking down at the children and Periwinkle.  
  
"Well," he said. "If you're so hungry, perhaps you would like to have some lunch with me at Bag End?"  
  
The children's eyes lit up and they jumped to their feet, clapping and dancing. Bag Hall was regarded highly amongst the hobbits, as most thought it filled with treasure. It was similar to being invited to the house of royalty, and the children made no attempts at hiding their excitement. Periwinkle stood, skirt swishing about her ankles, and she sighed, tilting her head.  
  
"Now girls, you know we shouldn't impose on dear Mr. Baggins. We've inconvenienced him enough." With a worn smile she picked a dry tuft of grass from his dark brown hair.  
  
"Nonsense," said Frodo. "I've rather had plenty of time to myself these past months, and an afternoon filled with such fair company should do me some good." Periwinkle blushed, partially hiding her face behind a cluster of daisies that sat in her hair. The girls leapt up and down again, tugging on Frodo and Periwinkle's clothes in glee. Frodo clapped his hands finally, rubbing them together. "Come on then," he said. "To Bag End!"  
  
The children raced onwards across the meadow, and as Periwinkle stood to run after them, Frodo got to his feet and caught her arm.  
  
"Uh - one moment Miss Periwinkle."  
  
"Perry," she said with a shy smile.  
  
"Yes." He returned it with one of his own.  
  
"I mean it, Mr. Baggins," Periwinkle said suddenly. "If we're imposing-"  
  
"No no no," Frodo said, patting her hand. His eyes gleamed and he felt his breath grow hot. He fought it all away and swallowed. "I wanted to thank you for uhm - not pressing me with the matter of singing."  
  
Her expression cleared. "Oh, I see."  
  
"Yes," he said, and nodded.  
  
"I won't pretend to know your reasons," she said gently, taking his hand in hers. "I know there's a lot of things you feel that no one rightly understands here. Least of all me." She shrugged. "Just know that someone in this stuffy town won't question you or think you're odd. Even if it is just a farming girl from down the road."  
  
It was one of the most wonderful things Frodo had heard in - well months. He'd not heard such comforting words since he'd been with Gandalf last.  
  
"I think this farming girl must be wise beyond her reckoning," Frodo said with a smile.  
  
They stood there for a moment, regarding each other quietly, until the demanding cries of the children broke their reveries.  
  
"Come on Auntie Perry!" cried Holly. "Our lunch shall be afternoon TEA if we don't hurry up!"  
  
Both Perry and Frodo laughed at this and they caught up to the girls who tumbled across the meadow eagerly.  
  
Their walk to Bag Hall was more like a procession, with Frodo escorting a wildly blushing Periwinkle by the arm, the children leaping ahead of them throwing daisies and petals in the air. Frodo had been swept into the simple innocence of the moment, and when a voice called out over the road to Bag Hall, Frodo felt a blush redden his cheeks.  
  
"Look, it's Prince Frodo!"  
  
Frodo gave a sheepish look to the fair tall hobbit that stood there. It was Pippin Took, grinning like the wolf among sheep, arms folded and pipe hanging from his mouth.  
  
"Hello, Pippin," Frodo said, recovering some of his unflappability. "What brings you here this afternoon?"  
  
"Oh, I just wanted to discuss some business with you regarding Hobbiton," said Pippin in a very official manner. At this Frodo sniggered. This was the first time Frodo had ever done so in all these years. Previously when Pippin had been in this capacity, Frodo's mind and thoughts had been elsewhere. After his morning in the field, he felt renewed somehow, and to him Pippin's seriousness seemed incredibly funny to him. Pippin's proud look fell.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing, nothing," said Frodo, patting Pippin on the shoulder with a smirk. "It's just humbling to have Shirriff Pippin before me."  
  
Pippin blushed now, nodding as they all walked towards Bag Hall. "Yes, it's all very amusing, but someone has to do the job, Frodo."  
  
"It's fine, Pippin," Frodo said. "I'm taking these fine ladies to lunch at Bag Hall, and you shall join us."  
  
The little girls were a little afraid of Pippin, for he was the tallest Hobbit they had ever seen. He towered over Frodo by a few good inches, and seemed more like a delicate boned beardless Dwarf than a Halfling. Nevertheless, his kind green eyes and sweet smile soon cured the girls of any fear they felt, especially since his mode of speech and bright expressions were so amusing. He became suddenly bashful, and he tilted his head, scratching behind his pointed ear and kicking the dirt road with his foot.  
  
"Uh. Perry. Have ye seen Diamond of late?"  
  
Perry looked as if she was struggling to contain a grin, and she glanced to Frodo who also looked similarly amused. She cleared her throat and forced a blasé look. "Oh, why do you ask that, Mr. Peregrin?"  
  
"No reason, no reason," said Pippin, shaking his head thoroughly. "It's just the whole lot of us are going to the Green Dragon tomorrow and I was wonderin' if she was comin' too."  
  
Not being able to help it, Perry giggled. "Doesn't she always come to the Green Dragon with us?"  
  
Pippin blushed wildly. "Yes, but it wouldn't be the same without her, you know."  
  
"Yes I think we know very well," smirked Frodo.  
  
Pippin huffed, very red in the cheeks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Well! This is right treatment for a hero of the War!"  
  
Holly took that moment to pipe up, "Frodo's a hero too."  
  
Pippin double glanced at the child, and then looked up to Frodo, who was looking rather embarrassed. "Ahh, speaking gallantries of yerself are ye Frodo?"  
  
"Of course not, Pip."  
  
"Aunt Perry told us the stories you told her," said Poppy. "About Frodo and the spider and the terrible monster in the castle!"  
  
Obviously Perry had altered the tale for the girls, and he didn't blame her for that at all. The real story was far too terrifying to tell to children, and they would learn the truth in time.  
  
"That's how Frodo lost his finger," said Holly.  
  
"Yes, yes it was," said Pippin.  
  
"Funny thing was, I didn't think anybody *knew* about the spider and the castle," said Frodo, feigning curiosity and speaking doubly. "I wonder who told them."  
  
Pippin blushed and shrugged. "Well, it's not exactly a secret, Frodo."  
  
Frodo lifted a brow and nudged Pippin in the shoulder. "Yes, well, we shall speak of it later."  
  
The band of hobbits made their way to Bag Hall, and upon entering it the children ran in with excited shouts and squeals. Holly ran straight for a shelf full of bric-a-brac, holding a little carving of an Oliphaunt and gazing at it with curiosity. Poppy was running her hand down a sheathed sword, fingers tangling in the leather laces and feeling them gently. Perry chased after them, skirt ruffling wildly, and the girls split up and ran. Poppy hid behind Frodo's sitting chair and Holly climbed up upon his sofa and dove underneath a cushion. Perry ran to Holly, pulling her from the cushion, and as she turned around, Poppy squealed with delight. The chase was terribly entertaining to the little girl. Perry let out a sigh, stomping over to Poppy and pulling her out from behind the chair gently. She put down Holly, straightening out Poppy's mussed dress, and Holly was already to the sitting table, playing with a rather ornate smoking pipe. It was decorated with silver and green, and was gorgeous to the eye.  
  
"Now just you behave yerselves!" she cried, looking around to find Holly. "Holly! Put that down, that's precious!"  
  
Frodo turned, instinctively flinching at the word. It wasn't unnoticed by Pippin, who patted the smaller hobbit on the shoulder before making his way to the hearth to stuff his pipe with some weed. Sighing, Frodo folded his arms, looking sternly at the girls.  
  
"Now you two. if you misbehave I shan't be able to tell you a story after lunch, will I?"  
  
The little girls put down whatever they were fiddling with, and toddled over to Frodo, looking up at him with guilty blue eyes.  
  
"Sorry Frodo," they said, shuffling their feet and frowning at themselves.  
  
"It's all right," smiled Frodo, ruffling Poppy's hair and patting Holly on the shoulder. "I remember the first time I came here to live with my Uncle Bilbo all those years ago, and I was just as naughty."  
  
"Were you?" said Holly.  
  
"You can count on it," said Pippin. "You'll have to get him to tell you about the time he blew on his Uncle Bilbo's pipe and made a right mess."  
  
The children giggled, and Perry smiled at the thought of a tiny Frodo running amok in the same room all those years ago. Frodo blushed a little at the memory and nodded.  
  
"Thankfully, old Bilbo was a nice fellow and didn't mind because he understood what children are like. And so do I, but I won't have you misbehaving. You're such nice girls; I think you'd like to be good, wouldn't you?"  
  
The girls smiled and nodded, eyes glowing with a grown adoration for the handsome hobbit. They hugged his legs and snuggled to his thighs, and their little noses digging into his legs tickled him. He chuckled, patting the girls on the head.  
  
"Come on then, why don't you sit down in front of Perry here, and she can tell you a story while I go into the kitchen and prepare us something to eat?"  
  
The girls nodded, and Perry frowned with embarrassment at Frodo.  
  
"I'm sorry about that."  
  
"Never mind," Frodo said. "Children will be children. You rest yourself there and I'll get something for you to eat, whilst Pippin tells me about his business."  
  
"Thank you," said Perry with a worn smile. Frodo returned the smile, appreciating the fall of Perry's skirt and the way the flowers made her olive skin look like the colour of warm tea. He pulled his attention away from Perry and back to the tasks at hand. He looked to Pippin, who lifted his brows and gave a cheeky smile. Frodo sighed, striding into the kitchen out of earshot of his other guests.  
  
"Now, what's troubling you Pip?"  
  
"Uh - just this business of rebuilding the old mill. I'm having a terrible time trying to get the bricks in from the river and I was wonderin' if you could help me organise some more help."  
  
"Oh, of course, of course," Frodo said. "I'll organise that tomorrow. We'll all be a bit busy tonight I think."  
  
"Oh, aye!" Pippin smiled broadly. "Nothin' like good ale and good company, as is always said." Frodo smiled to his friend and nodded. "I expect you'll be escorting Miss Periwinkle to the Inn tonight?"  
  
Frodo blinked at Pippin. "What makes you think that?"  
  
The tall fair hobbit tilted his head and shrugged. "Well, correct me if I'm mistaken, but this is the second day in a row you've spent time with the lovely lass. And it's very well known that she's as fetching as they come-"  
  
"Oh dear," sighed Frodo, rubbing his face in his hands. "Is this a conspiracy?"  
  
Pippin looked suddenly bewildered. "Frodo?"  
  
"First Sam and Rosie, and now you - and didn't you tell Perry about our journey?"  
  
"Ooh, that." Pippin blushed in shame, "I am sorry, Frodo. She was just so worried about you after you came back, and she was wondering what could have changed you so. Merry and I thought it was so good of her to care. that's a rare thing, you know Frodo. So we told her about it."  
  
Frodo nodded, the worry still in his features. He was sharing out cakes, bread and cheese, adding some fresh fruit to the plates as well; sliced apples and pears. "What exactly did you tell her?"  
  
Pippin shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at his cousin's face.  
  
"Peregrin Took. you shall tell me what you told her!"  
  
Pippin's blush turned scarlet and he folded his hands behind his back, looking to the floor as he mumbled. "Everythin'."  
  
The apple Frodo was holding flew out of his stumbling hands and the knife he held slipped. The blade nicked his finger, and he let out a little yelp, dropping the knife and putting the cut to his mouth, wincing. Pippin returned the screwed up expression, and Frodo could clearly remember seeing that expression in the caves of Moria. He sighed, wagging his hand, not noticing that Perry had come in from the sitting room like a dashing doe.  
  
"Mr. Baggins!" she cried, hands to her mouth, "Oh dear me! You hurt yourself!" Pippin backed away as Perry raced past, taking Frodo's hand and examining it with a worried pout. "Oh look at that! By the time you're an old hobbit you shan't have any fingers left!"  
  
He looked suddenly sheepish. "It's all right, Perry, it's just a little cut."  
  
"Nonsense! It's gaping, look at it! Let me wrap that up! Where do you keep your bandages?"  
  
"In that cupboard," said Pippin before Frodo could answer.  
  
Perry swished about quickly, dark curls bouncing, tutting and shaking her head. "My, my. Male-folk are a danger in the kitchen, whether they be good cooks or no! There we are." She put her hand out. "Give me your hand." Frodo just stared at her. This shy retiring young lady-hobbit had suddenly turned about and showed him a side that he wasn't aware existed. He didn't dislike it, in fact it reminded him much of Sam Gamgee. "Come on, Frodo. your hand!" He sighed, placing his hand in hers, and she began wrapping it deftly. When she was finished, she patted his palm and sighed. "Now off to the sitting room with you whilst I finish up here."  
  
"Uh."  
  
"Go on, you can tell the story. You're better at it than I, no doubt, and I'm sure I'm better in the kitchen than you'll ever be."  
  
"She's right, Frodo," said Pippin, suddenly amused by the situation. "She learnt all she knows from Old Mother Proudfoot."  
  
Perry nodded. "Indeed."  
  
Frodo sighed, totally at a loss in this situation, and he shrugged. "Very well. Just - don't worry yourself too much over the lunch, Perry."  
  
"I'll worry over the lunch, you go tell tales. Go on."  
  
And so Perry Proudfoot marched Frodo from the kitchen, Pippin Took close on this tail, for the first time showing Frodo the firm will she had under the demure lady-hobbit exterior. A few moments later she called them into the kitchen, the lunches set at the dining table with warm cups of tea and fresh water for the children. Pippin whistled, folding his arms.  
  
"Well that's a nicely set table."  
  
If it were possible for Frodo to give an ill look, (though with his angelic features it was very difficult for him to look sour at any time), it happened right at that moment. It lasted only a moment though, for the children grabbed his sleeves and tugged them with plaintive cries.  
  
"I want to sit next to Frodo!" said Poppy and Holly, both jumping on their hobbit feet.  
  
Frodo sighed with a smile. "You can both sit next to me, how is that?"  
  
The girls cheered, and Perry put their plates in front of them as they sat either side of Frodo at the head of the table. Pippin sat across from Perry, and he winked at her as he began to start on the cheese and bread. She shook her head with a knowing smile, nibbling at a piece of apple. The children proceeded to tell their friend Mr. Pippin all about their playing in the field that day, of Frodo as King Aragorn and his proclamations as the wise King of Gondor. Pippin fought to keep in his sniggers, and Frodo blushed fully, not having the heart to silence the children on such games. They talked of Queen Arwen (Perry) making fineries of flowers and grass for them, and the dances that the princesses did in celebration of the New Age. Conversation then swung to what would be taking place that evening, for it was the end of the run of hard working days and it was a day every week that the hobbits of the Shire would descend upon their favourite place to drink and be merry till the late hours of the morning, the female hobbit folk included (for during the rest of the week only the male-folk habituated the place as a rule). Frodo would be at the Green Dragon often on this day, mainly out of courtesy to his cousins who wished him to be out of his hole for a time per week. Most of the Shire-folk accepted him gingerly, and despite Frodo's better understanding of it all, their distance of him would still hurt. He thanked his Ancestors that at least they were civil. It was something to be grateful for. ~~*~~ 


	3. At the Green Dragon

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU   
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.   
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.   
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not properly edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. This is just to air the idea and to see what others think of it, so I know whether to bother publishing it on the net or whether to keep it amongst my close friends. I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.   
  
Website:   
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Three - At the Green Dragon  
  
Against the deep blue of the half-mooned sky, the Green Dragon's roof was square and stout, the building looking as if it had grown from the hillock it was built into like a rocky outcrop from ancient stone. From its round little windows burned the golden light of lamps and candles, and the strongest flickers licked out from the main entry, where inside there was the Grand Hearth. The Grand Hearth was reserved for the most respected of hobbit folk, and recently the likes of Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck had been making themselves feel welcome there, much to the chagrin of both Frodo and Sam. They thought it a little audacious, considering they were all still rather young, and mostly older hobbits were given places of respect by this fire. Thankfully, the two younger hobbit's loitering of the Pride of Place was not a constant, particularly if Diamond of Long Cleeve and Estella Bolger were anywhere in the establishment. And they often were.  
  
Tonight Sam and Frodo were alone as they walked up to the Green Dragon, as Rosie was still at home setting things right before she joined them. It was much like the days before the War of the Ring, and it filled them both with a familiar warmth that soothed them deeply.   
  
"Looks like a busy night at the tavern, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Indeed, Sam," said Frodo, making his way up the path that led to the Green Dragon.  
  
"I heard you had Miss Perry over again today."  
  
Frodo sighed, closing his eyes a moment. "Yes, Sam. We happened to meet in the meadow near New Row."  
  
"So Pippin was tellin' me, Sir." Sam nodded, and then tapped his lip. "Forgive me for sayin' so, Mr. Frodo, but perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing for you, befriending Miss Perry."  
  
Frodo stopped, turning to Sam and frowning. "I don't know if I can take much more of this match-making Sam. I really thought all of you knew that I'm a bachelor because I choose to be, not because I cannot find a wife."  
  
Sam covered his mouth for a moment, sensing his Master's annoyance and shook his head. "Oh no, no no, Master Frodo. I was just suggesting that perhaps letting her help you out around Bag End might serve you well."  
  
"But Sam, I have you for that, don't I?" Frodo said, looking rather puzzled.  
  
The shorter hobbit sighed, forehead wrinkling in a frown, his brows tilting up and guilt playing on his features.  
  
"That's the thing, Mr. Frodo. I've felt torn in two like this before, and I know it can't be helped, but I swore before to always take care of you, and I'm going to make sure that there's always someone to tend on you, even if it tain't me, Sir." Samwise sighed, fiddling his fingers.   
  
"Are you going to move out of Bag End, Sam?" Frodo asked, eyes wide and sad.  
  
"Oh, no Sir, no, I wasn't planning to." Sam blushed brightly. "It's just Rosie… she's - well, she's with child, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo felt the world spin a little, and he found himself jumping, wrapping his arms around his best friend in absolute glee.  
  
"Sam!" he cried, "Oh Samwise Gamgee! Why didn't you just say so?!"  
  
Sam only blushed at that, smiling bashfully. "Oh Mr. Frodo, I want to be able to help you, you see, but with this little one coming I'm going to be spending a lot of time lookin' after it with Rosie, and with all the other work I've been doing fixing up the Shire…" He shrugged. "I jus' feel that you need more than I can give you."  
  
Frodo sighed, folding his arms. "I guess I am extra trouble for you…"  
  
"Not at all," said Sam. "I just want as what's best for you."  
  
"I will have to discuss this with Miss Perry," said Frodo, the thought of having her help him out as she did that day perhaps a little appealing, "But it has been said that there is the matter of her … erm… " Frodo looked like he wanted to mention anything else other than what he was about to. "Feelings…"  
  
"Oh," Sam blushed back at him and nodded. "Well, Mr. Frodo, I'm not likely the right one to discuss this particular topic with, beggin' your pardon, seeing as I've been married for some time now, and Rosie had more to do with the decision than I did, bless her boldness."  
  
"Yes," said Frodo, not really listening, but thinking of poor Perry in his service whilst harbouring romantic feelings for him. He hadn't thought on it too much, indeed whenever he saw her he seemed to forget things like that and only felt to entertain her and treat her like any gentlehobbit should. Indeed she was a comely lass, as pretty as any in the Shire proclaimed, despite their recent fascination with the golden haired lasses. The very thought of her wasting her youth and loveliness on him seemed wrong, not that he was going to tell Sam that. He patted Sam on the shoulder fondly.  
  
"Don't you worry about it, Sam," said Frodo. "I'll figure something out. Why don't you go inside and meet up with Pippin and Merry?"  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
Frodo gave a tired smile. "Think, my dear Sam."  
  
"Right," said Sam. "Don't you think on it too long, or you shall disappear into yourself."  
  
Frodo's smile grew easier and he gave Sam a push. "Go on."  
  
Sam walked on up the steps to the door of the Inn, and Frodo turned, moving off the path and into the wild gardens that grew about the Green Dragon. Close to the path was a log perched on some specially hewn rocks to serve as a bench, and he sat on it carefully, pulling out his pipe and some weed to pack it with. A sigh was deep in his chest, and the more he thought on his situation, the more he realised how unfair it would be to take on Perry. No, he wouldn't do that, for the sweet girl deserved more than that. On coming to that decision he sat on the log for some time, for some reason feeling a sadness and a feeling of trouble had come upon him. He liked to have his thoughts all perfectly understood, and he greatly disliked having any part of his mind a mystery to himself. He wrestled with his thoughts, trying to make them clear, trying to see the situation that had become him as plainly as he thought it should have been.  
  
No matter what thoughts he settled upon, his heart would burn sickly, and he felt ill in a way he'd never felt before. It wasn't an illness of the body, but the sort of sickness that made one wistful and melancholy. As he pondered, the high voice of hobbit-ladies began to grow close upon the path. He glanced over to the steps below, and there in the dim moonlight was the sweet brown-haired lass that Frodo knew as Diamond. He didn't really notice her too much next to her smaller companion. The familiar raven hair and deep brown eyes amongst the dusky skin had distracted him.   
  
He'd never seen her dressed as this before, and of course he never would have, for he had only seen her during the day. She was dressed in her night-time finery, wearing a deep blue skirt like the night sky, and a firm black corset over a crisp white blouse that was worn about the shoulders. Her neckline was low, cleavage proud and her dark hair tumbling over her skin to bid her some modesty. As the girls trotted up the path, he completely missed that they had seen him on the bench beside it, and it wasn't till Perry repeated herself that he blinked and regained his wits.  
  
"I said, are you all right Mr. Baggins?"  
  
"Uh…" He swallowed. "Of course, Miss Perry."  
  
She smiled, elegant little hands pressing down her skirt nervously. "Are you coming inside then?"  
  
A crease of a frown settled between Frodo's brows. "I said to Sam that I would be in later…"  
  
"Oh!" Diamond sighed. "Come now, Mr. Frodo. You can't be out here all on your own on such a lively evening! Up with you! Come on!" Diamond boldly stepped to him, pulling at his arms and tutting. Despite Frodo's little whimpers of complaint, she looked to him sternly. "We can't have the Deputy out here on his lonesome!"  
  
So that settled that. Perry and Diamond escorted Frodo into the Green Dragon, and the chorus of cheer they received was heard all around the Hill and Bywater as they entered the establishment. It was a source of much amusement and impress that the Deputy Mayor had been brought in by two of the most eligible lasses in the Shire. Pippin nearly fell off his stool by the bar as he saw his cousin with Diamond on his arm. He seemed to completely miss the fact that Frodo was red to the tips of his ears and looked like he wanted to die of embarrassment. Pip scrabbled to his seat once more, pulling Frodo aside as he came close.  
  
"Now listen, cousin, let's be fair! You already have Perry Proudfoot desirin' your heart, give a poor fella a chance with Diamond at least!"  
  
Frodo looked about himself helplessly and Diamond leaned in to Pippin from the other side of him, speaking flirtatiously.  
  
"Why, are ye jealous?"  
  
Pippin blushed wildly, turning away. "Not jealous as such…"  
  
It was all very frustrating for poor Frodo. Usually he wasn't caught in the romantic crossfire of the young hobbits of the Shire, but tonight Merry and Pippin had him firmly stuck in the middle, making jokes and suggestions that he thoroughly wanted no part of. It was bad enough that the whole of the Shire would have some idea that he was a ladies man, and with the way Pippin and Merry were joking, he wouldn't be surprised if they thought that Perry Proudfoot was practically engaged to him. He glanced to Perry as the night wore on, and she didn't very much seem to find it all that amusing either. She would always turn crimson and look away, or frown pitifully into her mug of beer.   
  
Slowly the night passed to the later hours, always famous for the songs that would be sung at this time. People were ready to sing, and their blood was on fire with ale and brandy. Voices roared together in chorus, the words telling stories of their proud past, their melodies speaking of a love of the land that few outside of the Shire knew or understood. Frodo became lost in the humble beauty of his people, of their innocence and passion. It never failed to move him after all that he had seen beyond the Shire.  
  
"Perry!" cried out a rumbling male voice. "Sing us one of yer songs, Perry!"  
  
Frodo looked to Perry, who smiled bashfully at the crowd around her and covered her mouth with quivering hands. The crowd wouldn't let up, and a few of the hobbits lifted her up onto a table with a great roar of support. He forgot that Perry had a propensity to sing little songs on such nights at the Green Dragon. She didn't have a particularly good voice; it was steady in key and often shaky from nerves, but it served her well. It had been described as sweet and homely, and a lot of things about Perry could be described as such. The real talent that lay within Perry was her knack at creating songs from her mind, lyrics of which were thought of as clever and sometimes moving. Upon the table she began to clap, hopping from foot to foot, blue skirt swinging delightfully.   
  
"Beware folk big, upon the brig,   
down by the Baranduin!  
For soldiers there, so proud and fair,  
Will likely throw you in!"  
  
Perry threw her arms about as if ridding the room of a foe, and sent a foot kicking afterwards for effect. This sent the room into a roar of applause.  
  
"They may seem small, but they walk tall!  
In them great Kings did trust!  
For where they ride, the huge beasts died,  
With a quick, neat parry and thrust!"  
  
Perry now pretended to sword-fight some invisible monster.  
  
"When they returned, the Shire was burned,  
They stopped the Men in their tracks.  
With leader bold, they regained their hold,  
And had those men by their backs!"  
  
When she sung of the leader she met Frodo's eyes and sent him a wink.  
  
"Let's bless the Thain, his speech so plain,  
His son so strong and true!  
And Brandybuck, well half his luck!  
Was in the tussle too!  
  
But never forget, through all that was set,  
The Baggins stood by all.  
The heart of our fight, in Bywater's sight,  
Lives well in good Bag End."  
  
The loud roaring and clapping that had dominated the room began to still during the last verse, and by its finish everyone gazed at Perry bewilderedly. Why was she singing about Frodo Baggins like this? They were expecting the song to be singing the great glory of Pippin and Merry, and suddenly the Deputy was brought into it for some strange reason. The silence was daunting, and Perry looked to Frodo, shrugging lightly. He looked about himself, his cheeks growing red. Suddenly, wild ecstatic clapping and cheering broke out from the bar, and everyone turned to see Pippin and Merry as the source.  
  
"Oh, well sung, Perry!" cried Merry.  
  
"Up the Baggins!" cried Pippin.  
  
Slowly, and very reluctantly, the room clapped for Perry, nodding slowly and doing so only to placate their favoured heroes. Frodo saw nobody really wanted to help Perry down from her place, or wanted to hear any more of her songs, so he walked over, offering her his hands and arms to help her down. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he lowered her down from her perch, giving her a weary yet affectionate look.  
  
"You're asking for a shunning," said Frodo, shaking his head at her.  
  
Perry shrugged, looking rather unconcerned by this. She was suddenly set upon by Diamond and Estella, the two hobbit-lasses dragging her off to the bar and twittering in her ear excitedly. Frodo smiled, winding his way over to Pippin and Merry, noticing the puzzled looks that were sent his way from the rest of the older hobbits about him. He sent a thankful look to his cousins as he reached the bar, shaking his head.  
  
"Thank you for that," he said, "I would have hated to see Perry get any worse a reception for her song than she got."  
  
"I thought it was a good song," said Pippin, very seriously. "Especially that bit about blessing the Thain."  
  
"I liked the line about Brandybuck myself," said Merry.  
  
Frodo shook his head, having a sip of ale and sighing. The night went on much like this, and as it came time for everyone to leave, he found that his friends and cousins had strangely disappeared, and Perry was alone by the door looking rather confused. He came over to her.   
  
"Hullo, Perry. Where did Diamond and Estella disappear off to?"  
  
She shrugged. "They said something about doing the washing and ran off with Pippin and Merry."  
  
Frodo sighed, nodding to himself. "Yes, that would be about right. Come on then, I'll take you home."  
  
"Oh, no, you don't have to-"  
  
"It would be my pleasure, Perry," he insisted.  
  
His heart thumped strangely as they walked down the path alone. Perry seemed a little quiet, and considering her nervous talkative nature, that was saying something. He tried to relax, to take the stress out of the situation. It wasn't in the nature of most ladies to assert themselves in the ways of courting, though lately Diamond and Rosie were challenging that ages long standard, much to Frodo's own distress (for nothing bothered him more than hurting the feelings of well meaning ladies). Perry, however, was not like them, was far more sensible and restrained, and so he felt a little security knowing that he was in some control. He smiled to her as they walked down the path, patting her hand that was linked around his elbow.  
  
"I liked your song, Perry. You're very good at those, you know."  
  
Perry smiled bashfully and played with a tress of her hair as she looked away, running the end of it over her lips. "I've done it since I was a lass an' learnt my letters, Mr. Baggins."  
  
"Well, I'm sure dear old Bilbo would have been impressed. The next time I see him I should take some of your songs with me and show him."  
  
Perry's eyes gleamed as she looked to Frodo. "Would you do that? Would you really?!"  
  
"Of course," said Frodo. "I shall write down the one you sang tonight, and put it with the other songs I collected during my journeys."  
  
The lass ducked her head humbly, her quietness taking her again. Frodo thought that he should ask her what the matter was, as it was obvious to him that something was troubling her. He knew that she might bring up the rather tender subject of marriage or courting, but a part of him felt willing to risk that anyway if it meant she could talk about any other problem that might be bothering her and smooth the frown that was in her brow.  
  
"Are you all right, Miss Perry?"  
  
"Erm - yes, yes I am Mr. Frodo." She very deliberately avoided looking at his eyes. Frodo stopped, turning her around and making her do just that.  
  
"Come now, Miss Perry. I don't think you're being entirely truthful with me."  
  
Perry sighed fitfully after glancing to his large blue eyes, looking away. "Oh it's all so embarrassin', Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo's heart began to thump again as he realised that perhaps she would talk of her feelings after all. "In what way Perry?" He fought valiantly to keep a shaking from his voice.  
  
"Well I think that ye might take this all the wrong way, seein' as everyone else has tonight." She frowned. "See, Rosie told me about the pregnancy just yesterday, Mr. Baggins, and it troubled me to think of you up there in the Hill all on your own-"  
  
Frodo nodded, squeezing the arms that he held above the elbow. They were soft and warm. "I won't be on my own, Miss Perry. Sam and Rosie will be there with me, there's plenty of room on New Row for a whole family."  
  
"Well, yes, I know," said Perry, "But you know full well that there might be times when they might be too busy with themselves, and I tremble to think of you up there without help, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo took her hands, frowning himself, trying to find the words in his mind to let her down gently. "Miss Perry, I shall exist fine with my own help, as appealing as the thought of you waiting on me, hand and feet, is."  
  
Perry frowned now. "Well yes, Sir, I'm sure you would. I think the matter that bothers me is whether you should have to." Frodo found himself lost for words, and she continued. "I know everyone doesn't know what you did out there, and I see that the folk prefer to rally around Pippin and Merry, but they're fightin' folk, those two, so it's natural. War heroes and such. But you, you Sir…" She frowned, realising that she had begun to ramble. "Whether you think it or no, you deserve to be looked after for the rest of your days, or at least never want for anythin'. Even if the rest of the Shire don't know, I know sir, and I couldn't live day to day knowin' that you'd be treated any less than what is right."  
  
Frodo pressed his lips together, finding this moment far more difficult than he had foreseen. He squeezed her smaller hand in his. "Perry, you are young, and the apple of many a young gentlehobbit's eye in the Shire. I would not want you troubled with an old battle-worn hobbit when you could marry a young lad of your own sweet age and have a strong and large family. That, above all, is what you deserve."  
  
Frodo wasn't to know that he had said the wrong thing, for Perry's large and well known family had pressed her on this issue repeatedly. She pulled her hands away and folded her arms, pressing her round lips together and frowning deeply.   
  
"I do believe that's my own business, Mr. Baggins," she said, voice fully trembling now, thick with emotion. "And I think that hiding away in your hole and not letting another soul help you is no way to be, beggin' your pardon!" She turned away from him, staring down the path with firm features.  
  
Now she didn't know that she had said the wrong thing also, and Frodo sighed, clenching his fists for a brief moment before turning her around again and meeting her defiant stare with his own wounded one.   
  
"Now Miss Perry," he said, "If you know the full truth about what I did outside of the Shire, then you should know that I bear some scars that shall never heal, and shall darken my heart for the rest of my days."  
  
Perry scrunched her round little nose. "Mr. Baggins, bless your soul but you talk as if you're the only one that had ever had anything horrible happen to him during the War!"  
  
Frodo nodded, "Yes, I know things were terrible here during the-"  
  
"Do you?" Perry's eyes blazed with pain and she looked unconvinced. "You and your cousins left us, Mr. Baggins. The Baggins heir, the Thain heir, the Brandybuck heir and the son to the best gaffer in the Shire, all disappeared in one fell swoop, Sir! It mightn't have meant much in reality but it was a fair blow to our hearts!" Her bottom lip trembled as she lifted her face to challenge him. "And when old Sharky and all those horrible Men moved in, with everyone that ever cared to stand up with him gone, we were defenseless!"  
  
"I know this-"  
  
Perry shook her head. "Those Men ravaged the Shire, top to bottom, Mr. Frodo! We couldn't sing; we couldn't dance. We couldn't walk in the moonlight or lay in the sun! We worked till we fell over, till our knuckles were raw and our bones were weak. We had no food and we had nowt to drink but the water we could gather for ourselves between working. We were dirty and foul in our own smells and were forced to live as Men!" She took a gasping breath. "The Men took everything they could! If they weren't plundering all they put their hands on they were playing with us, using us for sport!" She gulped, tears welling over. "They leered and they touched the lasses. They laughed at us and our ways! We were nothin' to them! They treated us worse than animals, and had no care if we lived or died!" She lost the final shred of control she had and a sob flew from her throat. She shook her head and stormed off down the path, long dark hair fluttering in her gait, her skirt swishing about her delicate ankles.  
  
Frodo was wrought. He couldn't believe what he had heard, and was thoroughly distressed right down to his core. He felt ill, really ill, more so than his faint romance induced spate before. He took off down the path, chasing after the wildly sobbing lady-hobbit. She'd turned off the path, into a thicket of woods that lined the Water, his heart tight and high in his chest, tears lining his own eyes. Why hadn't he been told about the abuse the lady-hobbits had endured? Did any of the hobbit folk know, bar the ladies? He instantly thought of Diamond, of Rosie, of sweet Estella Bolger and the other young lasses that the Shire treasured as precious jewels. Another wave of nausea hit him and he leapt through the bushes, following the sound of Perry's sobbing.   
  
"Perry!" he cried.   
  
After clearing the thickest of the growth he spotted her down by the bank of the Water, crying heartily against a turf-covered bank, her nice dress in the damp dark mud of the Water's edge.  
  
"Oh Perry!" He raced over to her, pulling her dangling form up from the ground and dragging her up onto the grass. She didn't want to support herself; all she did was cry. Guilt wracked him mercilessly, and he held her against him tightly, wrapping his arms fully around her and pressing her to him. She didn't answer, only sobbed into his shoulder, clutching his back with shaking hands. "I'm sorry, Perry, I'm so sorry."  
  
She shook her head, saying nothing. He pulled back the curls of hair that had come loose and dangled in her face, cradling her jaw and wiping back the tears with a shaking thumb. She trembled all over, her hand covering his at her face. She met his eyes only a moment before pulling away, tugging his hand from her face and pushing it to his chest. She wiped her tears, turning her head away, still shaking.  
  
"No, I'm sorry Mr. Baggins, it wasn't right of me to-" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "I won't bother you again."  
  
Frodo gulped, a terrible jolt going through him at the words. He put his hand to a shoulder, trying to get her to face him again. "Please, Miss Periwinkle, you have nothing to be sorry for. I did not think on what I was saying. It was mindless of me to think that I was the only one that suffered during that time."  
  
She finally turned her head, a tired sadness in her eyes. "I shouldn't have said anything, Mr. Baggins. It wasn't right of me. I know I never faced anything as fearsome as you did, I know it."  
  
Frodo frowned at that. "On the contrary, Miss Periwinkle… you faced what I was fighting to prevent. The very thing I never wanted to see."   
  
Her eyes suddenly twinkled in the dim blue light of the moon, mingled with the orange glowing light of the Green Dragon not far off. Her voice was very soft when she finally spoke.   
  
"Can I tell you something, Mr. Baggins?" She very quickly added, "It concerns my reasons of wantin' to help you, Sir."  
  
"Of course," he said in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"When you came back, with the lads from the East Farthing, it was like a fanciful dream. I thought that I would wake up, and you would all suddenly disappear, and I'd be in for another day of misery. But I didn't wake up. You didn't disappear." She gazed at Frodo, a hand tentatively skidding over his, as if testing to see if he were real. "I knew when I saw you leadin' them boys through Hobbiton that I wanted to thank you somehow… cause you saved me Mr. Baggins. Saved me from…" She closed her eyes and sighed. "All I want to do is help you, like you helped me. Nothin' more, Sir. Nothin' more."  
  
Frodo's heart sighed gently, his initial stern decision melting away at this new understanding. He had an urge to embrace Perry again as he did before, his heart wanting to smooth over the pain he'd caused her in any way he could. He squashed this urge though, knowing how improper it was, and instead took her hands in his, a thumb stroking the top of hers gently.  
  
"And you will, my dear Perry, you will." He looked into her eyes, his own very serious. "I hope you can forgive me for my thoughtlessness."  
  
She sighed shortly. "It was matched by my own heedless words, I assure you Mr. Baggins. Please, no apologies from you are necessary."  
  
Frodo nodded quietly, and then he patted her hand. "Then your apologies are also not needed." She opened her mouth to argue, but Frodo spoke before she could say anything. "It is only fair, and the only condition upon my hiring you as my maid-servant."  
  
Perry sighed again, this time with a weary little laugh. "All right, Mr. Baggins, you tricky fellow."  
  
He finally smiled, and upon standing he offered her his arm. "Come on then, Miss Periwinkle. Let's get you home."  
  
~~~~~ 


	4. New Company at Bag End

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU   
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.   
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.   
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not properly edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. This is just to air the idea and to see what others think of it, so I know whether to bother publishing it on the net or whether to keep it amongst my close friends. I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.   
  
Website:   
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Four - New Company at Bag End.  
  
That night he brought her to Bag End, letting her sleep in the guestroom closest to his own, and wrote down a list of things he would do tomorrow to arrange her staying with him. Finally, after a night of puzzlement and trouble he had felt the decisiveness within him that he had been yearning for, and he felt more at ease again.   
  
The next day when he saw Sam he pulled him aside.  
  
"Sam… did you know of the abuse the lady-folk had to endure during our absence?" Sam grew very red in the cheeks and nodded, scuffling his feet. "Why did you not tell me of it?"  
  
"Well, it only happened to a few of the ladies, Sir, and you were already so weary after our trip into Mordor. It was all over and done with and it seemed like it would only upset you more…"  
  
Frodo sighed, pain welling full in his large blue eyes. "I shan't have any truth kept from me again, Sam, even to protect me." He shook his head. "I upset Miss Perry greatly last night because of my ignorance and I won't have such a thing happen again."  
  
Sam nodded. "So Miss Perry will be stayin' on then Sir?"  
  
"Yes, Sam," said Frodo. "She very much wants to help me and I don't see why I should deny her that simple pleasure."  
  
"Very good, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled and pointed behind him. "Well I should go back to fixin' the paving down Bagshot - I mean New Row then."  
  
Frodo gave a patient smile, quite noticing Sam's excited quivering and bright eyes. Yes, he was an old romantic, was his Sam. He went back to the Hall, deciding to check on Perry. He found her in her room; she hadn't woken up yet, and for a moment he watched her sleep. The bed she slept on ran along the wall, and next to it, behind a bedside table, was a fair-sized round window. Her clothes were laid out on a chair next to the table, and the blankets snuggled her form, keeping her warm. Her hair tumbled over the pillow, her eyes shut, long lashes resting against her cheeks. She looked completely at peace, the very picture of tranquillity. Remembering her words from last night, his heart stung deeply, recoiling in his chest. He sighed, shaking his head at the injustice of it all, and before he could think clearly, he found himself brushing the back of his knuckles over the curve of her cheek.  
  
"Poor Periwinkle…"  
  
He blinked, remembering himself, and turning, he strode purposefully from the room, setting himself the task of readying a breakfast for the both of them. As he made his way into the kitchen the smells of cooked bacon and tomatoes hit him, and it became clear that Rosie had already begun on that particular task.  
  
"Mornin' Mr. Frodo!" cried Rosie happily. "You look a fright! Did ye not get enough sleep last night?"  
  
"I'm afraid not," Frodo sighed. "I couldn't stop tossing and turning."  
  
"You think too much, that's what your problem is. Got to put the mind to sleep, then the body follows. Sit down; I'll set you some breakfast!"  
  
Frodo looked a little bashful as he asked, "Will there be enough for two?"  
  
Rosie grinned widely, winking at Frodo before cracking an egg into the pan she was using. "Oh, aye! Plenty for Perry here too."  
  
Frodo patted his pockets as he thought, as if he had forgotten something - it was a strange little habit he'd picked up from all his years with Bilbo. He wagged a finger and nodded, getting up from his chair.  
  
"Yes, I should go wake her."  
  
"You do that, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo glanced back at Rosie, perhaps a little tiredly, and nodded, making his way off down the hall. He knocked on her door this time, remembering his manners, and from inside her little voice called.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"It's just Frodo," Frodo said, "Rosie has made us some breakfast, so feel free to come through and get some. We should discuss the details of your staying here whilst we eat, also."  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then her voice piped up again. "Very good, Mr. Baggins!"  
  
Against his better judgement, he found himself smiling at the joy evident in her voice. Frodo brought out his list during breakfast, and he showed Perry what he had planned. Perry was agreeable to what he had proposed, and looked anxious, wanting to move in as soon as possible. Though there was something that troubled her a little, and she fiddled her long fingers nervously.   
  
"Mr. Baggins…"  
  
"Yes Perry?" Frodo said, finishing the last of his eggs.  
  
"I know this is - well, it's a terrible thing to ask you after all your kindness…" Frodo looked up to her silently. "But… how do you feel about pets?"  
  
Frodo frowned in thought. "Er… they're quite darling."  
  
Perry nodded slowly. "Yes… it's just…" She sighed. "I've had this cat since the Ravagin' of the Shire, Sir, and he always kept me company through all the terrible things that happened. I had to hide him away so he wouldn't get hurt or eaten or tortured and well, Sir, he's such a sweet thing-"  
  
The lady-hobbit had long begun to babble, and Frodo smiled gently as she sent herself into a lather. He put a hand over one of hers and squeezing it gently. "Of course your cat can come and live here, Perry. What is his name?"  
  
"Ferdinand," Perry said. "A high n' mighty name I know, but he's such a good soul he deserves every letter of it."  
  
So not only did Perry Proudfoot come to stay at Bag End, but also Ferdinand the Tomcat. That day Frodo went to visit the mayor, Will Whitfoot, and it was apparent to him that the old fellow was in full health. Frodo resigned his office as Deputy Mayor, and Will Whitfoot happily returned to his post as full Mayor. It was Mid-year day of the Great Year of Plenty, a day that the hobbits greatly celebrated as it saw the full restoring of the Shire as it was before the Ravaging. Also that day Frodo Baggins asked Old Proudfoot (Perry's Father) if Perry could live with him up on the Hill in Bag End in his company as servant. He was not met well; in fact Old Proudfoot was hoping for Perry to be married in the near future, though any specifics would not be gotten from the old man, no matter how hard Perry pressed him. Perry was allowed to stay with Frodo on the condition that should a suitable and agreeable fellow come along that wanted Perry's hand in marriage, then she had to leave Bag End and start a family. Perry didn't want to agree to such a thing, but considering she wouldn't have been allowed to leave without making such a deal, she acquiesced. Perry didn't see herself agreeing to a marriage any time soon, for there was no hobbit more brave and sweet than Mr. Baggins, and she knew he wanted to be a bachelor for all his days. Just to be around him and serve him made her happy, and she would see to it that that was what she would do.   
  
Sam and Rosie helped Perry settle in, showing her where everything was and discussing how Frodo liked things, and it took her no time to adjust to life at Bag End. Ferdinand was a reasonably well-behaved tom, though he did have a tendency to spray on Sam's prize roses, which resulted in good arguments between the two.  
  
"Now just you watch yourself, Tom, cause those are my roses and they're not yours!"  
  
The cat would lift its nose.  
  
"Don't you give me your attitude, because I won't be takin' it, now shoo!"  
  
The cat would then rub its large apple cheeks on Sam's leg, and Sam would cross his arms.  
  
"That ain't goin' to work with me, pussycat, now get going!"  
  
The cat usually took that moment to drift off on his own account and go lay about in the grass out the front of Bag End and sun himself for the rest of the day. He took well to tummy-rubs, but only from Miss Perry, and sometimes, Frodo. At night Frodo would let Perry invite the large portly tomcat in the hall, and it would be an amusing sight to see the petite but buxom Perry with her short arms trying to reach around the large round cat, who wore a look of utter contentment when he was draped over her tiny lap.  
  
Often when it was after tea, Frodo and Perry would sit by the fire, and Perry would hum as she either did chores (mending clothes or folding up newly washed linens), or wrote down her songs in a brown leather-bound book that she had brought with her from the Proudfoot Farm. Frodo was curious as to what kind of songs she had in there, and although she wasn't very secretive of the book, he was a little unsure of asking her. One night, as he wrote in his Red Book, and she in her brown, he listened to her a little more carefully than usual.  
  
It seemed to him that she now very definitely hummed a particular tune, and she was repeating it as she scribbled out words in the book. He laid down his own quill and looked to her, leaning on a hand.  
  
"Perry?"  
  
"Hmm, Mr. Frodo?" Her eyes were glued to the page. She'd now picked up the use of 'Mr. Frodo' from both Rose and Sam, and she would use it unwittingly. It wasn't as stiff as 'Mr. Baggins', but she still used his proper name more often than not.  
  
"Are you writing a song?"  
  
She glanced up now, eyes widening in something akin to nervousness. "Y-Yes Mr. Baggins."  
  
Frodo looked curious now. "Can I hear it, once you're finished? The melody you are humming is intriguing."  
  
Perry's cheeks grew a deep red and she stuttered, fingering the corner of the page she was writing on. "Well… I'm only just writing it now… it needs work…" She drifted off, her eyes meeting Frodo's. A smile cracked across her face and she giggled. "Mr. Frodo!"  
  
He blinked. "What?"  
  
"You've got ink on your face!"  
  
"How in all of Middle-Earth did that get there?"  
  
"It's on your fingers, you silly hobbit," chuckled Perry.  
  
"Oh, I must wash this off." He stood, turning to go wash himself. He looked back just before he walked off. "Why don't you choose a song to sing to me while I'm cleaning myself up?"  
  
Perry sighed, dipping her head to hide her blushes. "Oh all right."  
  
When Frodo came back, Perry was fidgeting with her ink-stained fingers, eyes peering at an open page. He sat down across from her in his large Dwarf chair, and folded his hands together on his knee.   
  
"Mr. Frodo… if you'll forgive me… before I start I-" She sighed fitfully. "I'm not as learned as your fine self, Sir, so my songs shan't be as good as anything you or Mr. Bilbo may have done-"  
  
"Nonsense," said Frodo. "I was well impressed by that song you sang at the Green Dragon."  
  
Perry gave a touched smile, and looking down to her book she wrung her fingers.   
  
"Well… this is a song about a farm, Mr. Frodo. And it grew amazing things in it, and everyone came from far away to buy their food there, cause they were always assured of a good purchase. It's a strange idea for a song-"  
  
"No, it's a hobbit song, Perry," said Frodo with a smile. "Just the kind I wished to hear when I was far from home. Sing it to me."  
  
"All right." Perry cleared her throat.   
  
"Down by the barrows  
The flight of the sparrows,  
Turns off their path to the south.  
For at a skip and a pace  
Is a wonderful place  
With food that will water your mouth.  
  
At the Watershed Farm  
Folk come to no harm  
Their bodies and souls are renewed  
From the ground it was made  
And no single grass blade  
Was harmed nor broken nor chewed.  
  
There hives for the bees  
Were as big as the trees  
With honey that poured like wine  
It was golden and pure  
So sweet and so sure  
So full and so warm and so fine.  
  
Then like from heaven  
Were watermelons  
Big as a sow from the yard  
And the turnips like heads  
Too big for the sheds  
Firm and coloured and hard.  
  
The corn was so full  
And so was the bull  
His cows had milk oh so sweet.  
The creamy froth  
Never you loth  
Guaranteed to sweep one off their feet!  
  
There's so much to tell  
Of this charming dell  
Where plenty is the run of the mill  
One's welcome by  
To stop and to sigh  
And to stay and get all of their fill  
  
Just go that way south  
And then by the mouth  
Of the Water there you will find  
The Watershed farm  
A place of no harm  
But of growth of the heart and the mind."  
Frodo smiled, leaning back in his chair and bringing his pipe to his lips. He was quiet for a moment, merely gazing at Perry, and the young lady blushed red under the scrutiny. She shrugged, closing the book and running quivering fingers along the edges to stop them from shaking any worse.  
  
"It's… a ditty. A silly ditty with no fact and no reason."  
  
"The best kind, I think," said Frodo. "Yes, it's a charming song. I like it." Perry smiled, ducking her head bashfully.   
  
~~*~~   
  
It was gentle nights filled with songs and stories which Frodo grew to thoroughly enjoy. It was a change that he had not expected, but now that he had lived it some time, welcomed with open arms. It wasn't till he woke up one day and Perry was nowhere to be found that he realised how much he had grown used to her company. He searched all through Bag End, which took some searching since it was so deep within the hill, and he grew puzzled. He hurried down New Row, knocking on Sam Gamgee's door.   
  
The door swung open and the smiling face of Rosie Gamgee welcomed Frodo. Her stomach was growing larger, and she absently ran her fingertips in circles over the shape of her belly.  
  
"Well, hello Mr. Frodo!" she said, bright and welcoming as always. "Don't you look lovely this morning?"  
  
Rosie was always full of compliments and sweetness; it wasn't a surprise to Frodo at all that Sam was so taken with her. He blushed a little and shrugged.  
  
"I - uh…" For the first time in years, Frodo found himself stumbling on his own words. "Have you seen Miss Perry this morning?"  
  
A knowing smile spread across Rosie's face, and she folded her arms. "I saw her head off into town this morning, Mr. Frodo. I'm sure she would have left ye a message of some sort."  
  
Frodo scratched his chin, turning and looking back towards Bag End. "I didn't see one…"  
  
"Goodness," tutted Rosie. She stepped out, closing the door behind her, and patted Frodo's shoulder. "Come on then, Mr. Frodo. Let's go have a look, shall we?"  
  
She took him back to Bag End, and the first place they looked was the kitchen. It came up bare, so Rosie thought that the mantle would be a good place to check next. Strangely, there was nothing there as well.  
  
"Your bedroom," Rosie said. She tottered off down the hall, and she opened the door to his room wide. "Ah Hah!" She bent down behind the door, scratching at something behind it. "Oh come on - let me pick you up, silly piece of paper!" As Frodo made his way down the main hall, Rosie appeared from behind his door, wagging a folded slip of paper in the air. "Was this there before, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"No," said Frodo, stopping in front of her. Rosie handed him the paper and folded her arms. Frodo opened it, and read it. "Dear Mr. Baggins… went out into Hobbiton to buy some supplies and visit Mother Proudfoot. Will be back before afternoon tea. Miss Perry."  
  
"There we go," said Rosie, patting Frodo on the shoulder again. "Nothing to worry about - she's just off to the market."  
  
"Yes…" Frodo nodded.  
  
Rosie left him to his own devices then, and Frodo stepped to his table in the sitting room. It was piled high with maps that Bilbo had drawn long ago, and old notes of everything Bilbo could remember about his travels, from the different people to the different terrains. The nice thing about this table was that it was in front of the fire-place and also before the large window that looked out onto Hobbiton. As such, it was warm and it offered a lovely view. Frodo sat down and for a moment, appreciated it. Strangely, he felt somehow useless, and didn't really know what to do with himself. He pulled out some of his maps, just to read them for idle interest, but they brought too many uncomfortable memories, so he slipped them away again. He stood to go make himself some breakfast, but he didn't find himself all that hungry. He had a part of a sesame cake and some tea. Frodo had just settled down in front of his latest writings in his Red Book when a dark shape burst in from the windows and landed on the only bare spot on the table deftly. Frodo almost leapt back, and clutching his chest he tried to calm himself enough to see what had intruded, what he partly knew had intruded in the very back of his mind.  
  
On the table Ferdinand narrowed his eyes warmly at Frodo, winking and lifting his short but elegantly shaped muzzle at the hobbit.  
  
"Ferdinand," Frodo sighed, sitting again, "You almost scared the daylights out of me…" He looked to the cat's feet. They were perilously close to his tea-cup which had been pushed into a pile of maps. "And you nearly knocked over my tea! Now get off the table. Shoo!"  
  
Ferdinand let out a light grunt and jumped off the table stiffly, sniffing the air about him. He toed over to Frodo, nudging his leg, letting out a low mowling.  
  
"Yes, I know," Frodo said. "Miss Perry is off to the market today."  
  
"Mruff," muttered Ferdinand.  
  
"Indeed," Frodo said. "I'm sure I shall look forward to her return as well."  
  
Ferdinand proceeded to make himself comfortable at Frodo's feet in a striped ball, slipping off into cat slumbers. The cat was quite large to a hobbit, and even by the standards of Men was sizable. His large muscular tomcat weight on Frodo's feet left Frodo quite incapable of standing and walking anywhere. He was rather stuck. There weren't many things a hobbit could do whilst left stationary by a sixteen pound feline, as Frodo found out. He smoked his pipe, and he drank his tea (slowly), and he nibbled at his sesame cake (also slowly). He tried to amuse himself with his writing, but he found himself feeling lonely more often than not. Even Sam Gamgee passing by his window on the odd occasion didn't leave him feeling satisfied.  
  
Sam finally stopped around lunchtime to say hello to his Master.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," he said, "You haven't moved from that window in hours."  
  
Frodo frowned. "No Sam, I've… well… I've been quite unable to."  
  
Sam's eyes grew wide. "Oh Mr. Frodo! Are you unwell? Are your legs working?! Oh let me help you!" The scruffy mousy-brown haired hobbit was all but climbing in the window. Frodo chuckled, leaning back.  
  
"Oh that's two climbing in the window today instead of using the door!"  
  
Sam was halfway in when he lifted a brow in question. "Sir?"  
  
"Ferdinand jumped in this morning, and is now quite at home on my feet."  
  
"Oh!" Sam scrabbled out of the window and ran around and in the front door. He toddled into the lounge-room, and upon seeing the snoozing cat, shook his head dourly. "That cat! He's a naughty sort, I tell you! Always widdling on my roses and scratching the fence posts till the paint's all gone!"  
  
Frodo smiled, leaning down and patting the cat. "He's a cat, and cats do these things, Sam."  
  
"Yes Sir," Sam said. He tilted his head. "Pardon me for askin', Sir, but why don't ye just kick him out of ye way?"  
  
"I've tried that, Sam," said Frodo, looking at the cat. "He's too heavy - he's right on my feet."  
  
Sam nodded and slapped his hands together, rubbing them vigourously. "Right! I'll move him!"  
  
"Careful, don't scare him!"  
  
Sam knelt down in front of the tom, gingerly prying his fingers under the heavy animal. "Come now, Ferdinand. Mr. Frodo isn't your pillow!" The cat let out a deep disgruntled ruff, and thinking Sam was playing with him, grabbed at the hand at his belly and sunk in his claws. "OW! Owww! Let me go you beast!" The cat dragged his pointed teeth over the skin of Sam's hand very lightly, and then after a moment began to lick them fully, rasping his big spiky tongue over the tanned flesh and purring deeply.  
  
"Seems as though he likes you, Sam."  
  
Sam sighed with a frown. "Perhaps so, Mr. Frodo, but he hasn't moved." Sam sat down on his bottom under the table, arms around the large animal and he proceeded to pull as well as try to avoid another play fight. After a moment Ferdinand grew tired of all the fussing about, and he got up, rather indignantly, and toed his way over to the hearth of the large fireplace, collapsing onto the ground gracelessly and falling asleep again. Sam shook his head in wonder. "That cat could fall asleep in the arms of a dragon!"  
  
"I don't doubt that," smiled Frodo.  
  
Sam crawled out from under the table and sat across from Frodo. "Rosie tells me Miss Perry is out today."  
  
"Yes," said Frodo, folding his arms and looking at the mess that was his writing table. "I've been rather at a loss all morning."  
  
Sam covered his mouth with his hand, as if wringing a smile from his lips, and nodded. "Well, yes Sir, as is natural when you grow used to certain company."  
  
Frodo knew Sam was humouring him. He eyed Sam a moment, and then shook his head. "You're a cheeky fellow, Samwise Gamgee. Very cheeky."  
  
Sam blushed. "Yes, that's what the Missus says, she does, but I think she rather likes it Sir."  
  
"I'm not sure I want to know," said Frodo, looking away. As he did, and looked out the window, he saw a movement down the road. His heart leapt in his chest at seeing the familiar colours of the flowery dress that his maid-servant wore often. Sam noticed Frodo's eyes suddenly twinkling, and he followed where his Master was looking. Again the fellow found himself battling smiles and grins.  
  
"Well, I better get back to rebuildin' that wall, Sir." Sam stood, waving to Frodo before shuffling off out the door.  
  
Frodo nodded, barely hearing the fellow, standing and clearing away the tea and the remnants of the sesame cake he'd eaten before. He wasn't entirely sure why he was bothered with cleaning up the table - Perry had seen it at its worst a thousand times before. Nerves played within his chest, and they released themselves in his busy tidying. As he stacked his maps in a vaguely orderly pile, the door opened, the familiar humming of Perry filling his ears. His stomach did sudden flip-flops despite himself. He looked over his shoulder, smiling brightly at the girl. She wore a thin greyish-green cloak over her dress, a large basket in her arms covered with a scarf.  
  
Perry turned from closing the door, and upon catching the smile put a hand over her chest as if she'd taken a blow, returning a burning, shy smile of her own. "Hello, Mr. Baggins. Have a nice morning did we?"  
  
Frodo glanced about himself, and then back to her. "Yes… uh… Ferdinand kept me company."  
  
Perry looked to the cat and grinned. "It's nice to know he's good for something."  
  
"Yes." Frodo fiddled with the pipeweed case that he had in his pocket, turning it over and over.  
  
"Well!" Perry placed down the basket she had been carrying, unpinning her cloak. "What have you been doing to amuse yourself?"  
  
"Er, I read some maps… wrote some…" He looked a little guilty, and smiled to rid himself of the expression. "I uh - in fact I've been rather useless all morning to be honest. I think I missed you."  
  
Perry gazed at him a moment, brown eyes filled with something that always frightened Frodo, and in the next she shook herself, laughing lightly. "Oh bless you, Mr. Frodo. Well, it's nearly lunch time, so I'll get you something to eat, shall I?"  
  
Frodo smiled, relieved at the passing of the moment, and also a little sad, and he walked back to his Dwarf chair, sitting down and readying himself his pipe. "How was your visit with your mother?"  
  
"Just delightful, Mr. Baggins," said Perry as she strode into the kitchen with the basket and began to fuss about. "She's knitting you a scarf, you know, a darling scarf with tiny pearl knit, the nicest you ever saw."  
  
Frodo looked bashful. "That's lovely of her… she doesn't have to do that."  
  
"Oh, but she's so thankful to you, Mr. Frodo," said Perry, looking over her shoulder. "Lookin' after me so and keeping me away from the dirty paws of the farmer boys that want to marry me. She says I'm a fair lass, and should be with fair kind." Perry blushed. "I think I am as like any other girl in the town, but you know I'd rather help you than anything else."  
  
"Yes," said Frodo. "And you aren't like any other girl, Perry, or you wouldn't be here."  
  
Perry's cheeks grew redder as she glanced at Frodo. She then busied herself in emptying the basket again.  
  
~~~~~ 


	5. Anniversary of Weathertop

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.  
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.  
  
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Five - Anniversary of Weathertop  
  
Old Bilbo's one hundred and thirtieth birthday came and went without much event, and life at Bag Hall was quiet and comforting for Frodo and Perry. Perry was content in her job as Frodo's maid-servant, despite her father's constant grumblings of marriage whenever she visited the Proudfoot Farm. One morning she woke, and it was a grey morning as the weather was turning, lady Summer had long turned her coat and her brother Autumn was now among them, readying the way for Winter. It was cold, and she remembered that morning that the night previous Frodo was complaining about the cold. She pulled out one of the spare quilts and went to his room, humming softly to herself. She swept into his room with gentle steps, her voice soft and lulling as she knew he liked it when she sang her tunes.  
  
Unlike most mornings, he didn't stir, smile and sit up and greet her. Perry threw the quilt over Frodo, tucking it in around him, and with a warm smile she placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking them lightly.  
  
"Mr. Frodo… wake up dear, it's morning." Frodo didn't move. She shook him again, but it didn't rouse him. "Mr. Frodo… Mr. Frodo… wake up. Wake up!" She didn't notice her own breaths becoming frantic as she rolled him onto his back, her hands cradling his face. She put her cheek to his nostrils and mouth, trying to keep still, trying to keep her sobs at bay. Her throat roared in pain and her eyes stung terribly. Her hands were shaking like leaves, and she all but fell over in relief as a puff of warm air flushed against her face. "Oh Frodo… dear, wake up!"  
  
Finally, Frodo's eyelids lifted a fraction. For the first time Perry noticed that his maimed hand clutched at something close to his chest. He panted a little, eyes drifting shut again.  
  
"No, Frodo, look at me. Look at me."  
  
"All is darkness…"  
  
His voice chilled her. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak so, his very timbre to the brim with despair. The tears she had been battling spilled over her cheeks regardless, and she shook her head.  
  
"No, no, Frodo…" She lifted him up some, trying to pull him from his funk. "Frodo please look into my eyes… please."  
  
Frodo stirred, groaning a little, and his eyes finally opened fully. She held in a gasp; there was a mistiness in them, and a darkness around his eyelids that frightened her. She cradled his face gently, looking down at him. As she did, a tear dropped from her face and splashed on his skin. He started, gasping.  
  
"Oh, it's warm, it's warm."  
  
"I'm sorry," she sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his night table and dabbing at his face.   
  
"No… I'm cold. I'm so cold." He winced a little, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. "It hurts…"  
  
"What hurts?"  
  
She pulled him over onto his back again, and he pointed shakily at his chest, just below his shoulder. She frowned, wondering if perhaps he hurt himself during the night. "Just you relax, Frodo," she said, putting his arms at his side and trying her best to settle him down. "Let me have a look…"  
  
"There is nothing you can do."  
  
"Let me decide on that, Mr. Frodo." With great care she unbuttoned and peeled back his night-shirt and she fought to stifle a gasp. Against the dip in the middle of his chest was the single most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was silver, like shining tendrils of living ivy wrapped around a shining six pointed star made of faintly blue diamonds, sharp and glittering. In the middle of the star was a singular pure white diamond. The diamond held the colours of the rainbow as it rose and fell with Frodo's chest. The tendrils of silver twisted round and round and underneath it curled strange wing-like curls of silver. When she beheld the pendant, she saw women with long dark hair and eyes of the deepest blue in her mind. Her heart suddenly sank deep in her chest. She had never seen such women in her life. In comparison she was as a simple pebble on a riverbed to their diamond splendour, and she perhaps understood why Frodo would take no hobbit-lady for a wife. After all, she had heard from Sam the great beauties they all beheld in their journeys. She wondered if this pendant was a gift from one of them. After a long moment of gazing further, she tore her eyes away from it, looking to Frodo's shoulder. There upon the smooth pale skin of his chest where the shoulder met it was a deep scarlet run of angry flesh; a scar, from quite some time ago. It couldn't have been what was troubling him, it was an old mark.  
  
"Frodo, dear." She sighed. "I can't see what would hurt you… this is an old wound." She made the mistake of laying her hand against it. Frodo recoiled, letting out a little whimper.  
  
"I am wounded," he moaned, and pulled closed his shirt, "wounded; I shall never really heal."  
  
Perry pulled up the blankets, the tears in her eyes strong and hot. It tore at her inside to see Frodo like this, so lost, so deep in despair. She resolved to herself to do all she could to comfort him. She stroked his face gently as he lay there in his sickness, on the odd occasion pressing a kiss to the knuckles of his hands. "All will be well, Mr. Frodo," she breathed to him again and again. She loved him so and she wouldn't leave his side. She made some soup that day, and tried to get him to eat it. He would not take more than a few sips, and those she couldn't help but think he consumed for her benefit rather than his own.   
  
At lunch time she left Frodo's side briefly (who had been sleeping soundly for some hours now), and went to consult with Sam Gamgee. She knocked on the door, trying to keep calm but her knocks were frantic nonetheless. He raced to the door, and upon opening it grew pale at Perry's anxious state. His napkin from lunch still hung at his shirt.  
  
"Oh Sam!" she gasped, tears at her eyes. "I've tended him all morning, and he's in such a terrible state!"  
  
Sam looked equally as struck now. "What's wrong with Mr. Frodo?!" He began to race down the road of New Row, despite the napkin still dangling at his front, and Perry raced after him.  
  
"I went to rouse him this mornin' and he just wouldn't wake up! And then he finally did but he was saying some terrible things about wounds that wouldn't heal!" Perry felt the tears burn her eyes again, and her voice shook with tears. "Oh I'll never forgive myself if he has a bad turn, Sam! I swear I did everything I could to look after him these months, I swear!"  
  
Sam glanced back to Perry and patted her shoulder as they arrived at Bag Hall.   
  
"I very much doubt it's anything you've done, Miss Perry," said Sam as he arrived at Frodo's room. "A better caretaker of dear Master Frodo we couldn't find anywhere." He stepped in quietly, wringing his shaking fingers as he moved to his Master's side. "Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo took a sharp breath in, and turning his head, he lifted a hand. "Sam…"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Frodo, it's me."  
  
His brows tilted up, eyes shooting open, and he glanced about him. "Perry… where's Perry?"  
  
"She's here, Sir, never fear."  
  
Perry knelt by Frodo's side, stifling sobs that shook her chest. He could hear them, and the hand that he lifted reached for her. She took the hand, pressing her lips to the knuckles and encasing the hand in her own.  
  
"Whatever is the matter, Mr. Frodo?" said Sam softly. "What ails you?"  
  
"It's a terrible scar on his shoulder," said Perry, panic in her voice. "It still hurts him."  
  
A sudden understanding filled Sam's eyes, and he patted Frodo upon the head, nodding slowly. "Yes, yes Mr. Frodo. I expect it would be bothering you today." He sighed, looking to Perry. "Don't you worry yourself, Perry. Mr. Frodo will be fine."  
  
Perry glared at Sam like he had lost his mind. "But look at him!"  
  
"Yes, it does look bad," Sam said. "It's the anniversary of the day he took the blade of a Black Rider, Miss Perry. As good a healer as dear Lord Elrond is, he couldn't take away all of the damage that the wound gave dear Mr. Frodo. This will happen, again and again on this day, till the end of his life."  
  
Perry covered her mouth with quivering hands, new tears spilling over her already red blotched cheeks. "I shall look after him then," she said. "For always, I swear it."  
  
Cold fingers brushed her skin, and glancing down she saw Frodo feebly caress her arm, the faintest ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth. She took his hand once more, smiling warmly, tilting her head.  
  
"You rest, Mr. Frodo. I'll get you some more water and a bit of soup if you're up for it later."  
  
Frodo nodded very slightly as Perry stood and swept from the room, her skirt ruffling lightly after her. Sam looked to Frodo then, sighing deeply and patting his friend on the arm.  
  
"That lass cares more for you than I dare guess, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Again, Frodo nodded.  
  
"I can't think of anyone better to look after you, in fact." Sam nodded. "You know Rosie told me, and I never told you this mind you, that the last time Miss Perry went for supplies, she slipped off to that trader on the edge of the North Barrows - you know the one that gets his wares from Bree. Don't know what she was doin' there, Sir. Rosie guessed she was acquirin' fabric of some sort, as that fellow is best for his fabric wares." Sam scratched his chin in musing. "Well, I guess we'll all find out in the end, won't we Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo sighed, again nodding fractionally.  
  
"Don't think she went to see her folks that day. Was too busy walkin'."  
  
Perry was soon back, arms busy with a tray of soup and some water in a jug, and a cup. "Now, Mr. Frodo," she said, setting down the tray. "Whether you'll eat or no, you must get some of this water down you. Water heals like magic and cleanses the body, did you know that?" She smiled at him and poured him a drink. "That's what my Ma always says."  
  
Sam smiled, folding his arms. "Well, it looks like you're in the care of an expert, Mr. Frodo. I must be getting back to my work, if you don't mind."  
  
"That's fine," breathed Frodo.  
  
"Just you rest up, Sir," Sam said, patting his friend once more before looking to Perry assuredly. "I'll check up on you both later this evening, just to make sure all is well."  
  
"Thank you, Sam," Perry said. "You're a blessing."  
  
"So are you, Miss Perry. Well, then! Cheerio!" Sam waddled off, leaving Perry to look after Frodo.  
  
She was in and out of the room all day whilst it was light and there was cleaning to be done, but once the day was mostly over she was back in the room. As she walked back in she was surprised to find Frodo sitting up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. She gasped, racing to his side and tutting.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, oh Frodo, you should lie down!" She sat down next to him, arm around him gently. "You're ill."  
  
"I was just stretching myself," he said faintly, "And wondering where you were."  
  
"I'm here," she said, "As long as you need me, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo sighed, his eyes slipping closed, and he lay himself down on Perry's lap, his strength giving up for that moment. Perry wrapped his blankets around him and rested against the wall. The day was darkening to night, and she fancied she was tired after all her work. She didn't plan to slip off into sleep, but that's exactly what happened.  
  
~~*~~ 


	6. An Unexpected Arrival

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.  
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.  
  
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Six - An Unexpected Arrival  
  
The following morning was warmer than the last, though Frodo wasn't sure whether it was the actual weather, the extra blanket, or the warm thing he was lying against. He fancied Ferdinand had snuck his way in through an open window in Perry's room, and perhaps was sleeping on top of him. Half asleep, he reached to stroke the cat, finding in his hand instead dark thick, luxuriously soft but altogether hobbitish curls. He opened an eye, shifting a little, not wanting to disturb his perfect sleep unless it was entirely necessary. Looking to his hand he saw that there was very definitely a hobbit in his bed. On top of him, in fact, the blankets sandwiched in between them, a rough knitted one pulled over the shoulders of the other. He knew that dark hair anywhere, and he felt a flutter in his chest at the though of his hand being sunk into those curls he'd appreciated so many times… they were so very soft. He didn't remember much from yesterday, only pain, such pain. And eyes… brown eyes. The sweetest brown eyes he could ever remember gazing into. He tried to shift a little, but the stirring caused the girl on top of him to groan a little in her sleep. She shifted herself, wrapping an arm around him protectively and squeezing him tightly. He felt a blush rage in his cheeks, as this was very much improper. He loathed to do it, but he put his hand to her shoulder (that he discovered to be achingly smooth), and shook her lightly.  
  
"Miss Perry… Miss Perry."  
  
She started awake, a gasp lifting from her. "Oh! What time is it?" She didn't seem entirely awake, and Frodo smiled with some affection.  
  
"I'm not quite sure. Erm…" He looked about himself. "May I ask what you are doing on my bed? And is that cold soup on the table?"  
  
"Ohhh," She sat up, blushing terribly, shaking like a leaf. "Oh don't get angry, Mr. Baggins, please don't. I was just looking after you, Sir, like I promised I would. I brought you the soup, and the water, and you fell asleep in my lap, Sir. I got comfortable on the wall and I must have nodded off. I beg you to forgive me, please!" She had gotten herself into quite a state at this point, and Frodo just took her hand and squeezed it gently.  
  
"I thank you, Perry," he said. "I don't remember much from yesterday, but I do remember you being there." He frowned. "And Sam."  
  
Miss Perry smiled. "Oh, I think he's always tryin' to be there Sir, when you're in a fix, that is."  
  
"Yes, I think so too." He stretched a little, Perry creeping back out of his way and off the bed.   
  
"I'll go clean up these things, and if you're hungry I'll make you breakfast."  
  
Frodo massaged his scarred shoulder and pressed his lips together, brows knitting with the thoughtful smile that made his way on his face. "I think I shall help you today."  
  
Perry stopped, turning to look over her shoulder very slowly. "Sir?"  
  
"I put you through much yesterday, Perry. I wish to thank you properly."  
  
"Oh you don't have to, Mr. Frodo," she said, shaking her head. "Oh no, I was just doing what you brought me here to do."  
  
"You did more than I ever expected of you," he said, eyeing her firmly and yet warmly. "I very much needed someone to be there, and you didn't leave my side. That means more to me than you could imagine."  
  
That morning they made pancakes together and Frodo treated Perry as kindly as he ever had, sitting her at the table like a right lady-hobbit. He even dug into some of Bilbo's old wine that had been stashed away in his Brandybuck hole but had since been returned, even if it was far too early in the day for that sort of thing. He wouldn't allow her to do any of her work that day. No cleaning, no washing up. He told her to get into her fairest summer dress, and he borrowed Sam's small cart and Bill the Pony (for Strider the Pony hated being strung to the cart, for some strange reason, but loved being ridden).  
  
"Where are we going, Mr. Baggins?"  
  
"There's a little place down the Bywater that I know of," he said. "I wish to take you there and have a picnic."  
  
"Please, Mr. Frodo," she said softly. "What I did - it was nothing. It's not worth all of this."  
  
"Your service to me has been impeccable," said Frodo. "You have long since deserved this day, Miss Perry."  
  
Perry couldn't ever remember having such a time. She was reminded of Frodo's modest wealth and fine upbringing as they ate and talked together on the banks of the Water. The place Frodo had taken her to was a small grove, willows on either side of the small clearing that hugged the river, long lush grass cradling them, deep blue sky above and gentle forest all about them. They could feel the forest living all about them, curious eyes watching them, birds flittering and hanging about in the trees in hopes of scavenging crumbs. Frodo told Perry stories of his journey, even though she had heard much of it before. Then he told her about Weathertop, and about the Black Riders, and the wound he had taken. She had not heard those before, not from Frodo. For a moment, things were very sombre.  
  
Then Frodo smiled, and asked to hear a story from Perry.  
  
"I only know about farms and hobbit things," she said to him.  
  
"When I was far from home, I dreamt of farms and hobbit things," he said. "Of smiling folk and good food. Music, laughter. I love these things, Perry, so dearly, that I went on these journeys to protect them. When you sing of these things, and tell stories of these things, it makes me love my home even more." He nodded. "I feel happy, because you are here to tell me of them, and you are not in danger anymore."  
  
Perry's eyes became dewy, and her heart sighed deep in her chest. "All right, Mr. Frodo."  
  
She decided to tell him of her past, of her childhood and her games. She then told him of darker times, of the ruling of Proudfoot Farm by the tall Men and the frightened Shirriffs. Frodo's eyes grew sad as she told him these tales, not just for the ruining of the Shire, but the terrible hardships Perry was put through. He grew to understand why she was so grateful to him and what he did for the Shire, though he knew after their time together it was probably more to her loyalty than simple graciousness.  
  
Frodo and Perry lived on as they had done in the hobbit hole at the Hill, the seasons passing into one another in their never-ending graceful dance. Frodo fell ill again early in March, and by talking to Sam, Perry learnt that it was due to the bite of Shelob, and it had come to haunt Frodo once again. Like the first time he had taken ill, Perry stayed by his side, keeping him warm and secure. Frodo was fine the day afterwards, as before with the sickness of his old scar, and again was very thankful to Perry for her vigilance and care. It was barely a week after this that a panting and panic-stricken Sam Gamgee pounded the door of Bag Hall; his cheeks a deep red and sweat on his brow.  
  
"Oh help me! Come right away Miss Perry!" he cried as Frodo opened the door, Perry close behind, wiping her hands on a tea-towel.  
  
Frodo frowned. "Sam, whatever is wrong?"  
  
"It's Rosie, Mr. Frodo! She's havin' her baby!"  
  
Perry gasped, dropping the tea-towel and racing out the door with an excited squeal. Frodo looked to Sam, sighing with a smile and patting him on the shoulder. "Come on then, let's help out. Have you sent for a midwife?"  
  
"Old Mother Proudfoot is on her way," said Sam, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Perry should be fine help till she arrives."  
  
Perry was already in the Gaffer's place down New Row, running into the room where she could hear Rosie huff and puff. When Frodo arrived Sam was off to find Mother Proudfoot, and he was left to run and fetch things for Perry. It was quite a strange experience for him, being on wait to the girl that had waited on him all this time. It surprised him that she knew exactly what she was doing, but he remembered then that her mother was the best midwife in all of Hobbiton, having twelve of her own youngin's and helping with countless others. In his many trips to the room, the last thing he expected was for Perry to stick her head around the door and ask for two warm cups of tea. He fetched them, and upon entering Rosie's room, was most surprised to see her sitting up in bed and smiling wearily.  
  
"Rosie!" he exclaimed. "Has the baby come?"  
  
Rosie laughed, jocularity glowing faintly on her stressed but still beautiful face. "Oh goodness no, Mr. Frodo!"  
  
Frodo blushed. "Then, was it a false alarm?"  
  
"Not at all," said Perry, "It's just a lull in the contractions." Frodo only looked confused. "The body rests, you see, between pushin' out the baby."  
  
"Oh…" Frodo looked thoughtful. "How long does having a baby usually take?"  
  
"Hours, Mr. Frodo," said Perry earnestly.  
  
"Sometimes days," added Rosie, taking a long sip of her tea as if to brace herself.  
  
Frodo's cheeks grew pale. He could very well be waiting for the baby to be born for… well he dreaded to think. His stomach churned in worry for Rosie, and what she was about to go through. He hadn't witnessed any births in all of his life, and the details of them were never something he took much interest in, nor were they all that readily available to the gentlehobbits without some embarrassing discussions with the ladies. Still, he felt reassured somehow that Perry was there for Rosie until her mother arrived. He vaguely remembered what a wonderful nurse she had made when he had been ill those days ago.  
  
Rosie's relaxed face shifted, and she put the teacup down, knuckles white, her back growing rigid and straight. "Ohhh, Ohh! Another one Perry! Oh bless me it's strong!"  
  
Perry took a hold of Rosie's hands and looked her dead in the eyes. "Relax, now, Rosie… remember what I told you. Deep breathin' now… think about the breathin'. Just the breathin'."  
  
Rosie clenched her eyes closed, gripping Perry's hands tightly and clenching her teeth. "Oh but it does hurt!" she cried.  
  
Frodo's skin crawled strangely, and bolting upright he ran from the room. "I'll get more hot water!"  
  
Perry shook her head with a fond smile. "We don't need no bloody hot water." She knew Frodo would have made any excuse he could possibly think of to leave the room at that time. Gentlehobbits weren't normally present at birthing, let alone the birthing of their best friend's wives.   
  
Frodo made his way to the sitting room, wringing his fingers, trying not to ponder on the noises coming from the Gamgee's bedroom. The thought of Rosie in all that pain had him in quite a state. He paced to and fro in front of the hearth, stomach fluttering in his chest, anxiousness eating him alive then and there. He shoved his hands into his pockets, fumbling for his weed and pipe, sadly coming up empty. He remembered then that he'd left them at Bag Hall in the rush. He sighed to himself, and slowly, he sat down on Sam Gamgee's footstool, running his fingers through his hair. So wrought was he, that he almost jumped a foot in the air when his gardener came bursting into the door.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo there you are!" he exclaimed. "Mother Proudfoot is nearly here! Oh my, I hope you forgive me, Sir, I hope you do because I borrowed your pony, he's so much faster than Bill, and I'd sent my old Gaffer out after her but he's been takin' forever so I got on your pony and I raced to Hobbiton myself, Sir, I overtook him and then I found Mrs. Proudfoot at the market buying tomatoes an' I told her and she's on a cart cause she said to me, 'Now you listen to me, Samwise Gamgee, I'm right too old to be ridin' on saddles on the backs of ponies now, you take me there on a cart and we'll be seeing the missus then!' and then I put her on the cart with the Gaffer and I rode back here." Sam gasped, gulping in huge breaths after the longest Frodo had possibly ever heard him ramble. "And… Mother Proudfoot is down the road, Sir. She's nearly here."  
  
Frodo smiled, worry plain in his eyes. "It's all right, Sam."  
  
"Oh where's me pipe!" sighed Sam.  
  
Frodo looked about himself as Sam dug about for his weed and pipe. "I'm not sure. I was just about to have a pipe myself, but I've left both my weed and my pipe at home."  
  
Sam nodded. "Well come on then, Mr. Frodo, we'll go fetch it. It'll be good to walk along the road and see if Mother Proudfoot is here yet."  
  
At this time Rosie had breathed her way through the contractions she had started when Frodo had been in the room. She took a rest, sighing, the pain ever-present and growing steadily worse. Sweat began to make itself at home on her blushing brow, and her thoughts began to drift. She frowned, gulping, reaching for water.   
  
"Water," she muttered, and Perry handed it to her. "Talk to me. Please."  
  
Perry smiled soothingly, running her hand over Rosie's hair. "Mother Proudfoot will be here real soon, Rosie. She'll help the baby along nicely."  
  
"No, about you, about how things are at Bag Hall." She pulled her light blue eyes to Perry's then. "I want to know, I worry about you sometimes."  
  
Perry gave a smiling frown. "Me?"  
  
Rosie nodded slowly. "You love him so much, dear. Sometimes I think it's all not very fair on you."  
  
Perry felt a blush rage in her cheeks, and she shrugged. "I wouldn't be by anybody else's side, Rosie. You know that."  
  
"What do you do," asked Rosie, a dent of curiosity in her brow. "With all that time alone, what do you do?"  
  
The questions Rosie was asking were very personal, but Perry understood that under normal circumstances she never would have asked them. Well, she may have, but she would have used much more tact and guile as per her regular fashion.   
  
"Erm… well. I make him his dinner-"  
  
"I know that, I know that," Rosie said, waving a hand. "What then?"  
  
Embarrassment was burning Perry to the core. She sighed. "Erm… We talk."  
  
"About?"  
  
"Our lives, I suppose, silly things. Stories, old times. He tells me about beautiful things, like Elves and Rivendell and the land of Tom Bombadil. And I tell him of the Shire, and of little things. He loves the little things, like having problems milking cows or struggling with the turnips." Perry was thoroughly immersed in her train of thought now. "And sometimes we share songs. He sings songs he learnt in the land of the Riders, and in Gondor. He sings songs he wrote, too. Beautiful things, they are. My favourite songs are the Elf songs." Perry nodded. "But the strangest thing is he loves it when I sing my songs. I think nothing of them, but he thinks they're very precious."  
  
Rosie smiled faintly. "That sounds lovely. I think Frodo would hate to be without you." Perry began to shrug, but Rosie grabbed her shoulder, shaking her head. "No, I can see it, Perry. I see it very clearly. I just - I wonder if he realises that he cannot have you forever like this… neither with him or away from him. Your parents will not wait," Rosie paused in pain. "They will not wait for you to choose a husband forever. And what will you do then? What will Frodo do?"  
  
Perry closed her eyes, frowning, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Rosie, coming into herself a moment, taking her hand away from Perry. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk of such things, not now. Oh… I don't feel very good."  
  
Absently wiping a tear away, Perry nodded. "You won't. You have a baby trying to worm its way out of your womb."  
  
"You're not helping."  
  
Perry smiled, even though there was still a little sadness in her eyes. "Sorry."  
  
At that moment, Mother Proudfoot swept her way into the room; ready to work her magic, for a good midwife was like magic on the heightened anxiety of an expectant mother. It wasn't just the hot towels and the water and the tea. It was calming the mother, bringing her out of her panic and helping her concentrate on relaxing and pushing at the exact moment. Perry watched her mother work, always with some awe at moments like these. The portly woman was much like Perry, rounder however (for Mother Proudfoot always said that Perry got her grandfather's more gangly physique, even though Perry was well rounded), her large eyes a dark blue in her older, wrinkled face. She had a commanding but soothing presence, and the labour proceeded beautifully once her cool efficient hands were on the scene.  
  
Frodo had long since fetched his pipe, and he kept the pacing Sam Gamgee company in the sitting room. The fellow would have long bouts of silence, and then suddenly would begin to babble endlessly, long streaming sentences of panic that Frodo would nod at sagely and give the odd word of calm to. Of course, Sam didn't hear him. All he heard were the wails and the grunting of his wife in the main bedroom.   
  
"What have I done to her, Mr. Frodo?! What have I done?! Had I known it'd do this to her I'd never have done it all!"  
  
Frodo felt himself squirm, but he fought to smile calmly. "All mothers go through this, Sam. I'm sure she'll be fine."  
  
"Oh but do listen to her, Mr. Frodo! She's in pain!"  
  
"Mother Proudfoot is in there now to help her," said Frodo. "It shouldn't be long now at all."  
  
Sam winced, pacing again, falling into another of his deep silences, puffing on his pipe like a bubbling pot of hot water shooting steam. For hours this went on, seeming like days, and Frodo felt like he was going a little crazy. Rosie's yelling had stopped, but there was still much panting and huffing. Mother Proudfoot's stern, firm voice was heard over this, such care and comfort in those tones, and Perry's higher, more eager voice piped in on occasion. Suddenly, the voices rose up together, and an almighty cry almost shook the rafters.  
  
"Rosie!" wailed Sam, racing towards the bedroom. Just as he reached the door to his room, it opened, Perry popping her head out with an excited but weary smile.  
  
"Oh Sam!" she gasped. "She's beautiful! She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen!"  
  
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and he stumbled his way into the room, doe-like brown eyes seeking his wife. He wrapped his arms around her, planting kisses on her sweaty skin, smoothing her hair and holding his hand above the little pink wrinkled form bundled in Rosie's arms. It shook, and he covered his mouth.  
  
"Oh… oh. She's prettier than an elf! Oh look at her!"  
  
"She's got your darling lips, Sam," Rosie said, smiling wearily. "She's perfect."  
  
And indeed she was a darling child. Mother Proudfoot herself said she'd rare seen such a bonny lass, small and fragile looking, though strong and healthy. Frodo, Perry and her mother left Sam and Rosie to their devices for the moment, Mother Proudfoot staying in the spare room of the Gaffer's house that night to make sure the baby was well, and Frodo and Perry going back to Bag Hall.  
  
Both Frodo and Perry tumbled into their beds, awfully tired from the ordeal, too sleepy to even eat any dinner. The next morning Frodo awoke to a nicely laid out breakfast at the table, and a note from Perry (put very clearly in the centre of the table this time) telling him she would be at the Gaffer's house, visiting Rosie and the baby. He ate well, for he was terribly hungry after missing a meal (a rarity for a well settled hobbit), and he sat for a while to let it digest.  
  
There was a knock at his door, and upon answering it he saw it was Sam Gamgee. He came in, humming and hawing and mentioning this and that, till he came to the matter at hand. "Well, Mr. Frodo," he said, "I'm in a bit of a fix. Rose and me had settled to call him Frodo, with your leave; but it's not a him, it's a her. Though as pretty a maidchild as any one could hope for, taking after Rose more than me, luckily. So we don't know what to do."  
  
"Well, Sam," said Frodo, "what's wrong with old customs? Choose a flower name like Rose. Half the maidchildren in the Shire are called by such names, and what could be better?"  
  
"I suppose you're right, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "I've heard some beautiful names on my travels, but I suppose they're a bit too grand for daily wear and tear, as you might say. The Gaffer says: 'Make it short, and then you won't have to cut it short so you can use it.' But if it's to be flower-name, then I don't trouble at the length: it must be a beautiful flower, because, you see, I think she is very beautiful, and is going to be beautifuller still."  
  
Frodo felt himself smiling at the pride Sam so obviously showed, and he crossed his arms in thought. "Well, Sam, what about elanor, the sun-star, you remember the little golden flower in the grass at Lothlorien?"  
  
"You're right again, Mr. Frodo!" said Sam delighted. "That's what I wanted!"  
  
Sam invited Frodo over to have a look at the baby (again) and to be there when he told Rosie the name Frodo had provided. They walked into the comfortable and snug hobbit-hole, the Gaffer, Mother Proudfoot and Periwinkle all gathered around Rose at the hearth. Rose looked up to her husband and smiled.   
  
"Hello, my love. Did Mr. Frodo help you?"  
  
"Indeed he did," said Sam, slapping Frodo on the shoulder. "What do you think of the name 'Elanor'?"  
  
Rosie smiled warmly. "Ohhh, Sam! It's just right!" She looked down to the baby, rocking her to and fro. "Elanor. Elanor."  
  
The baby looked up at her mother's face, the faintest of smiles curling her lips.  
  
"Seems she likes it," said Perry.  
  
"Indeed," said Mother Proudfoot. "That's a baby that's chosen her name, I reckon." She put her hands on her hips and looked about. "Now, if I don't get back home old Father will have a fit. So, my dear girl…" She looked to Perry and kissed the top of her head. "You look after yourself, and I'll see you on the weekend, shall I?"  
  
"Yes Ma," Perry said, hugging her mother.   
  
Mother Proudfoot waddled past Frodo and tapped him on the nose. "You look after my girl, now. No overworkin' her!" Perry blushed, and Frodo did the same.  
  
"Yes, er, no, er - of course not," he stuttered.  
  
Mother Proudfoot eyed him sternly before looking to the Gaffer, who made his ambling way out to take Mother Proudfoot home. As they left, Sam couldn't help but chuckle, Rosie in a similar state.  
  
"She sure told you, Mr. Frodo," giggled Rosie. She looked in pain suddenly, and she stood quickly. "Er - I must go relieve myself. Here Perry - hold the lass will ye?"  
  
"My pleasure!" said Perry, taking the child into her arms with an enchanted smile.  
  
Sam tapped a lip and nodded. "Yes, well, I must go feed Bill. I forgot to yesterday. Don't mind me - make yourselves comfortable!" He patted Frodo on the shoulder, and Frodo turned to see him disappear out the front door. Frodo frowned a touch, and he turned back to look at Perry and greet her good morning. His voice died in his throat. He swallowed slowly, his frown deepening, but not in upset but rather in muddlement, as his mind felt dizzy and lost.  
  
Perry stood in the centre of the sitting room, and behind her daylight streamed in the window, lighting her lovely dark hair around the edges. She smiled sweetly at the baby in her arms, singing softly to the child, swinging to and fro. He had seen Perry covered with flowers, he'd seen her in her best gown. She was in her work clothes now, a rather plain dress, and her hair was neat for it was early in the day, though never had he seen her look as very beautiful as she did at that moment. She looked at peace, so very lovely with her smile. His heart fell slowly, and some part of his soul wanted this more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. Perry, with a little one in her arms, at home and settled. He could feel tears burn his eyes and he fumbled with his pockets, trying to calm himself down. His mind raced wildly, and fear bombarded him.   
  
She should have her own, he thought. She should be in a warm little hole right now with her own baby, her own family. He thought of all the time she spent taking care of him and of his resolve to be alone always. The wealth of pain and hurt that he'd amassed over time swelled in his chest, and looking to her he felt she deserved more. He pressed his lips together sadly, and made a final decision.  
  
When he went to see Bilbo on his birthday next, he would not come back.   
  
~~*~~ 


	7. Off to the Havens

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.  
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.  
  
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Seven - Off to the Havens  
  
Such was his decision that when he left the Gamgee's house to continue on with his writing, he began to pack his things, just little things. He would organise everything, ready himself to leave. He could not be selfish and keep Perry from a full and happy life any longer. It took him a full six months to ready himself. Little Elanor grew to be a bonny little maidchild, with fair golden curls and large merry blue eyes just like her mother. Perry knew nothing of his preparations, and when he spoke to her he learnt she thought he had completed his book and thus was preparing to have it copied and sent to the Museum or some such. He didn't say whether she was right or no, no matter what he did for her own benefit he wouldn't lie to her. He refused to ever wrong her in such a way. In the time he was preparing to leave they grew closer, learning more of each other as time stretched on. A part of Frodo cried out in such terrible sadness to be leaving her and he felt thoroughly torn in two. Maybe he knew how Sam had felt, when he first told Frodo of his proposal to Rose.   
  
He thought of Perry with little Elanor in his arms, and it steeled his will. This was truly best for her. That night he went to the Green Dragon as always, but was a little more withdrawn than usual. The way he spoke to people was final, and he looked around the room like a man in his last days. This strange behaviour was not missed by Pippin and Merry. It was lucky that they were there that day, or no one would have noticed, not even Sam who was understandably busy with his family. Pippin and Merry were always travelling around the Shire, patrolling its borders. As such they barely spent time in Hobbiton, and any time they were there was always reason for celebration.   
  
Pippin nudged Merry that night, tipping his head and casting a look to Frodo. "Frodo's actin' funny."  
  
Merry looked over to Frodo, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. "You think?"  
  
"I know," Pippin said. "I think somethin's up with him."  
  
Merry wrinkled his nose. "I think you're right, Pippin."  
  
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"  
  
Merry nodded. "It's time to spy on him."  
  
They nodded and shook hands. Taking their leave at the pub, they followed Frodo home when he'd left surprisingly early. The dull glow of his pipe could be seen in the darkness, and they crept very carefully after him. He still had the faint side effects of his bearing of the ring; heightened senses and so forth. Thankfully he heard none of their steps, nor smelled them, seemingly too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice them shadowing him. He entered Bag End, and Pippin and Merry peered inside the window.  
  
They saw Frodo hang up his cloak, and Perry stepped through with her regular warm smile, pointing to the kitchen and no doubt asking him if he wanted a cup of tea. Frodo shook his head, and patted her shoulder in thanks before walking off down the hall. Perry folded her hands together, watching him retire, a slight little frown on her features.  
  
"He's mad," said Pippin.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"She's plum in love with him!" said Pippin. "Who'd give up a maiden like her?"  
  
Merry shrugged, a troubled frown on his face. "You know he's always wanted to be a bachelor, Pip. I guess it's just bad luck for Perry."  
  
Pippin sighed sadly. "Well it's not right. Look at her."  
  
Merry did look at her, and he couldn't help but feel similarly sorry for Perry, alone in the sitting room, writing in her little brown book, her large pet cat at her feet. Pippin nudged Merry, creeping along the hillside.  
  
"Maybe we can sneak into his study."  
  
"Good idea, Pip."  
  
"Thanks, Merry."  
  
They checked the window of the study, and with some struggling and clever handiwork, were able to budge it open. Locks and such were not a priority in the Shire, even after the Scouring, as it was not in a Hobbit's nature to be distrustful of other Hobbit folk. They trusted in Merry and Pippin and the other Shirriffs to protect them of any Men-folk now, the only people they readily distrusted. It was somehow ironic that the very people they placed most of their faith in were at that very moment breaking into the property of one of the Shire's most respected citizens.  
  
The study was frighteningly neat. Both Pippin and Merry knew Frodo to be a painfully messy fellow when it came to his study, as he had learnt all of his bad habits from Bilbo, who was similarly as disorganised. The Red Book sat at the table, notes folded inside neatly, bound and tied with string. Other papers were all neatly in drawers, and the keys to Bag End were sitting on the table next to the book. Merry pointed to the lamp on the table.  
  
"Here - light that won't you, Pip? We might look in the cupboard here."  
  
Pip pulled his tinderbox from his coat pocket and lit the lamp, and then brought it over to the cupboard in question. Merry pulled it open, and upon seeing what was inside, grew very pale.  
  
"His travelling things are gone!" he gasped softly.  
  
"No they're not… they're right here!"  
  
Pippin pulled a bag out from underneath the study table, and frowned. It was filled with precious things, like the vial from Galadriel containing the Light of Earendil and his Elven cloak with the pin. Along with these things was a small stack of papers, bound with string. Upon bringing the light to it the cousins saw it was a collection of songs. In Frodo's firm elegant hand was written: "Songs of the Shire, by Periwinkle Proudfoot." Merry took the bag and put it back, a very serious look on his face.  
  
"We shouldn't interfere."  
  
Pippin glared at Merry. "Are you thinking quite straight? He's going to leave!"  
  
"We don't know how long for," said Merry reasonably. "It might just be to go see Bilbo. You know his birthday is in two days."  
  
"I have a very bad feelin' about this, Merry," said Pippin. "I say we follow him, jus' far enough to see where he's goin'."  
  
Merry sighed, nodding. "Right. It's not like we don't travel around a lot anyway, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," agreed Pippin.  
  
There was a bump down the hall, and exchanging panicked looks the cousins scrambled to the window, both of them trying to exit the room through the small space at once. They wriggled, their legs flailing helplessly as they tried to worm their way out.  
  
"You - get your elbow out of my nose!"  
  
"Get your nose out of me way then!"  
  
"Hurry up! Someone's comin'!"  
  
By some miracle they were able to wriggle free, one of them moving an arm or a leg and slipping through the window easily. They tumbled down the bank leading away from the window, landing in a thicket by the roadside, arms and legs akimbo.  
  
"We keep endin' up like this, Merry."  
  
"I know, Pippin."  
  
"It has to stop."  
  
"I don't know, it's kind of exciting."  
  
They crept off before they could possibly be caught, and thought together on what they could do without meddling too much. Of course, meddling too much was never a problem for them, so their standards for such a thing were a little more lax than most folk. Either way, they made their plans too.  
  
The next day was an autumn one and the winds outside were just beginning to grow brisk and chilly, despite the sun's efforts to warm the day. All was golden and hues of fire, and it filled Frodo's heart with sadness to leave it. He could never be completely happy to leave the Shire, for his heart and soul lay there. Frodo called Sam into the study that day, trying his best to be cheery.  
  
"It will be Bilbo's birthday on Thursday, Sam," he said. "And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!"  
  
Sam's face lit up. "So he will!" he said. "He is a marvel!"  
  
"Well, Sam," said Frodo, "I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can't go far or for a long time now, of course," he said, a little wistfully.  
  
"Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won't be away very long, not more than a fortnight; and you'll come back quite safe."  
  
Sam had known Frodo had always planned to see Bilbo on this birthday, and thought that Frodo would be away for a little while, bound to return. He wrung his fingers, looking a little sad. "I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo," said Sam. "And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am torn in two."  
  
Frodo understood all too well. He pushed down his similar feelings and gave a warm smile. "Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid," said Frodo. "But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be."  
  
Sam looked confused at these words, but accepted them nonetheless. For the next two days Frodo went over his papers with Sam, showing him his thick Red Book and all of its contents. It had nearly been finished, and Frodo said that the rest was to be filled by Sam. Sam frowned, feeling ill-equipped for such a task, but accepted it nonetheless. On September the twenty-first they set out together, early in the morning whilst Perry was out on errands, and they took the old Stock Road over the hills, towards Woody End, taking their time and moving slowly. That night they camped in the Green Hills.  
  
Perry returned to Bag End in good spirits, for she had planned a fine dinner to celebrate Bilbo's hundred and thirty-first birthday, and Frodo's fifty-third. When she got there however, she found it quite empty. She was rather confused, for she had been gone all day and Frodo should have been home. She searched Bag End high and low, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest, her eyes burning dreadfully. She mumbled to herself under her breath, searching the meadow for him, wondering if he went to read at his tree. The tree was bare of any hobbits, and striding her way back, terrible thoughts began to race through her mind. Maybe he went for a walk and fell down. Maybe he went for a walk and grew sick again. She tried to still her shaking hands as she knocked on Rose Gamgee's door.  
  
The door opened, Rose with arms full of Elanor, and her welcoming smile slid off her face as she saw Perry's tear-streaked and worried features.  
  
"Oh Rosie!" she gasped. "I can't find Mr. Frodo anywhere! His pony Strider is gone! Did he go off somewhere? I would never live with myself if I was gone and he's hurt himself."  
  
Rose's face grew firm, and she sighed, shaking her head. "I can not believe this!" she growled, turning about and stamping inside, inviting Perry in afterwards by tugging on her arm and pulling her in. "He's gone and left and not told you!"  
  
Perry gulped, wiping at the tears on her face. "He is well? Oh my, I was so worried! Well where is he?"  
  
Rose turned about after reaching the kitchen, bobbing Elanor up and down on her hip. "Off to Rivendell, my dear. To visit the Elves, and Mr. Bilbo."  
  
"Why would he not tell me that?" asked Perry, her tears returning. "Why would he keep this from me?"  
  
"I assume," said Rose, shifting the baby, "That he plans not to return."  
  
Perry's hands shot to her mouth and she shook her head, her stomach lurching. "Oh no! Oh no, Rosie! Oh whatever will I do?" she gasped, tears spilling down her face. She looked about herself, pacing for a moment. "I must follow him!" At that Perry ran out the door, as fast as her furry feet could carry her. Rosie gasped, chasing after her.  
  
"Oh now, what do you think you're doing, Miss Perry?!" She chased the girl all the way to Bag End, and arriving there Perry began shoving her things into one of her bags.  
  
"I am going to serve Frodo," said Perry decidedly, wiping back her tears. "I shall not ever leave his side. I swore it to him, and I keep my vows, Rose."  
  
Rosie was about to try to get reason into the girl, when there was a loud thump at the front door. Rosie sighed, stomping to it and opening it. The towering figures of Pippin and Merry stood in the doorway.  
  
"Where's Perry?" cried Pippin, stepping in (rather heroically).  
  
Perry came in from her room, hefting her bag over her shoulder. "Pippin! Merry! What is wrong?"  
  
"Frodo's gone," said Merry, "But I see you know that."  
  
"Yes," said Perry. "And unless you are going to stop me too, I would like you to get out of my way."  
  
"Don't be daft," said Pippin. "We're here to help ye. We brought ye a fast pony."  
  
A bright smile flashed upon Perry's face a moment, and she wrapped her arms around Pippin, then Merry, hugging them tightly. "Thank you! Let's not tarry!"  
  
The three of them raced out of Bag End, mounting their ponies swiftly and setting off after Frodo. Rosie closed up Bag End behind them, shaking her head.   
  
"They're crazy, the lot of them," she said to Elanor. "And mercy be on my poor heart if you take after your father." Elanor gurgled at her mother, drooling helplessly.  
  
~~  
  
It was the following afternoon when Frodo and Sam passed the tree where they had hidden from the Black Riders. It felt like ten years ago, although it was only a mere three. Sam had been dwelling in his memories of long ago when he heard a soft singing. It was Frodo, and it was the old walking-song, though the words were not quite the same.  
  
Still round the corner there may wait  
  
A new road or a secret gate;  
  
And though I oft have past them by,  
  
A day will come at last when I  
  
Shall take the hidden paths that run  
  
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.  
  
And, as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:  
  
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!  
  
Silivren penna miriel  
  
O menel aglar elenath,  
  
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!  
  
We still remember, we who dwell  
  
In this far land beneath the trees,  
  
The starlight of the Western Seas.  
  
Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them. Down the road rode the Elven Host that they had been expecting, breathtaking in their glimmering finery, their long faces warm with a longing for the Sea that they rode towards. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. But Galadriel sat upon a white palfrey and was robed in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon; for she herself seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a wingle with stone flickering like a frosty star. Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.  
  
Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. "Well, Master Samwise," she said. "I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved." Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was.  
  
Before him Frodo saw his fate, saw where he would go. The people before him were old, and unexpectedly so, he felt painfully young. He had seen little over fifty years of life, and whilst he was older than his companions in the Shire, these folk had a grace and beauty that was ready to pass to something greater than what anyone knew. Perhaps a little, Frodo felt afraid.  
  
Bilbo suddenly woke up and opened his eyes. "Hullo, Frodo!" he said. "Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So now that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?"  
  
Frodo battled his voice, trying not to let it catch in his throat. He steeled himself. "Yes, I am coming," said Frodo, "The Ring-bearers should go together." Strangely, Galadriel and Elrond looked amused at this, but they said nothing. Sam stepped forward, his hands shaking.   
  
"Where are you going, Master?" he cried, beginning to realise what was happening.  
  
"To the Havens, Sam."  
  
"And I can't come."  
  
"No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. You time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot always be torn in two." Frodo paused. He felt that he always would be. "You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."  
  
Sam shook his head slowly. "But," he said, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire too, for years and years, after all you have done."  
  
"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up. Lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry and Goldilocks and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on." Frodo wished that someone could have said these things to him, but he felt ready to close this chapter. "Come now, ride with me!"  
  
Sam rode on with Frodo, and they travelled far, past the borders of the Shire and to the edge of the Sea. They then arrived at Mithlond, towards the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune. There they met Cirdan the Shipwright, who guided them down to the Havens, where upon the quay stood a tall grey horse, upon which was a familiar figure dressed all in white. It was Gandalf, and he openly wore the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Everyone was glad that Gandalf would be with them, and the Elves began to board the boat, Frodo leading Strider along, readying himself to go aboard.  
  
He felt a great tension in his chest, and tears clung in his eyes. He fought them away, for he thought he should be strong in leaving behind the legacy he fought for. Next to him Sam rubbed at tears, sniffling miserably, looking upon Frodo like one might look upon a dying man.   
  
"Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed. "It is so sad to have you leave us."  
  
It was then a great clatter rocked the quay, three ponies at the other end of it rearing and looking afraid at the water below. Three short hooded figures leapt off them, and the tallest of them threw back their cloaks and strode forward with teary eyes.   
  
"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo!" said Pippin, "This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"  
  
Merry nodded, crossing his arms. "We were goin' the wrong way."  
  
"To Rivendell," said Gandalf, and smiled knowingly. "I thought it would be better to ride back four together, than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our Fellowship in Middle Earth. I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."  
  
Poor little Perry couldn't contain herself any longer. She had seen the noble elf folk, and had wished to seem as noble herself, but her hot Hobbit blood betrayed her. She raced forward, her cloak flying away as she hastily unbuttoned it, tripping on it and falling at Frodo's feet and sobbing heartily. The bag she carried burst open, a few apples rolling out onto the wooden slats of the quay, and Gandalf knelt by the sobbing girl, helping her to her feet. Frodo almost fell over himself, his resolve shattering to the ground. His heart seized hard in his chest, tears bursting to life in his eyes.  
  
"Perry!" he cried.   
  
"I did not reckon this one upon seeing the trio. I assumed she was a cousin, or kinfolk," said Gandalf, a long smile on his old fine features.  
  
"Oh please, Mr. Frodo!" she whimpered. "If you must leave, let me come with you! Please!"  
  
Elrond had been beside Gandalf, and looked upon this display with some amusement. He knew what was to pass, and it did not bother him so as it did the little hobbits who were wrought with sadness. "I am sorry, dear maid, but Valinor is no place for you now. Only the Valar can choose who may step upon her shores, and those that are not blessed by them live only a short time there, their lives consumed like tinder in the fire of these sacred lands. Those of the Fellowship and those that bore the One Ring may sail over the Sea and join us, as Eru has bid. You must stay here, where you belong."  
  
Frodo's brows tilted up, his eyes glinting with tears. He held Perry's hands gently, looking upon her sadly. "I am afraid Lord Elrond is right, Miss Perry. It is my time to leave, my time to pass into tales of old, and you must continue on - keep alive all that I held so dear."  
  
Anger flickered in Perry's eyes, and she took her hands away, though despair still reigned in her. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you not explain this to me days ago? I worried so much for you; I cried countless tears in fear for your safety!"  
  
Frodo sighed. "I am sorry, Perry. I knew you would come after me."  
  
"I did," she said, tears streaming down her face. "And now I will leave with you, rules or no."  
  
Frodo looked alarmed, but before he could say anything, his Uncle Bilbo spoke.  
  
The old hobbit had lifted his brows, stirring from a half sleep. "I didn't know you were courting a lass, Frodo."  
  
Frodo blushed a deep red and looked to his Uncle. "I'm not, Bilbo."  
  
"He should be," mumbled Pippin, who was quickly nudged by Merry.  
  
"I am sorry, Perry," he said, running a hand over the silky tresses of her hair one last time, his heart shuddering at the touch. "I must say goodbye to you now."  
  
Perry shook her head, her feet giving way once more and her legs failing underneath her. She fell to the quay, sobbing deep and terrible sobs, covering her face with her hands. "I swore to you I would always look after you, Mr. Frodo! I swore on everything that meant anythin' to me!"  
  
"I know," said Frodo softly, kneeling on the quay, gathering her sobbing form upright. "And that means more to me than you could ever know, Perry. You…" He fought his own tears then, closing his eyes and frowning a moment. He met her eyes once more, his own glassy and overflowing. "You wish to give so much to me, but I am not good for you. I am damaged inside, and I will never heal."  
  
Perry frowned then, a little incredulity in her eyes. "You won't let yourself."  
  
Frodo didn't see the amused smiles of either Elrond or Gandalf behind him. He only saw the yearning sadness in the eyes of his maid-servant. He had to convince her to stay. Perhaps then he would no longer feel the awful wrenching in his heart.   
  
"You deserve a family, Perry. A good husband and darling children. These are things you will never have, living under me."  
  
"And I do not want them if it means I must leave your side." She looked deep into his eyes, conviction there amongst the grief. It was a haunting look, one that left no question as to her heart's wishes. "I cannot follow you, and I would not burden you with the responsibility of my death. I will stay in the Shire, but it would be a lie if I said that I would be happy." She gave a shuddering sigh, looking down to her shaking hands. "Indeed I know there will always be a part of myself yearning to be with you. My heart will ache, it will always ache." She looked up once more. "But I will stay."  
  
Frodo couldn't help but feel relief at that, but oddly, his heart still twisted fitfully in his chest, grief lashing him.  
  
"It seems that your maid-servant has made her decision," said Gandalf.  
  
"Indeed," said Elrond. "And you, Master Frodo, must make yours."  
  
Frodo looked to his friends, the Elves, and to his Uncle Bilbo. Bilbo watched the scene quietly, and shook his head sadly.  
  
"It'll never do, leavin' a lass in that state, my boy."  
  
"But what of Valinor?" he said, eyes filled with a little of his own despair.  
  
Gandalf chuckled quietly. "My dear Frodo. You will not fore-go your place there by staying behind in Hobbiton for now. We will know when you are ready to join us, and we will be there to collect you. You will always be welcome with us; do not be in such a rush to begin closure on your young life."  
  
Frodo looked about himself with great confusion. Oh how he wanted to stay, how he wanted to be beside Perry for always. The thought of her wasting her young productive years on him soured his heart, and he cradled her face gently. "Dearest Perry, I do not want you to lose that which I know you hold dear."  
  
"Then stay," she breathed, clutching the hand at her cheek. "For there is nothing I hold dearer than you."  
  
His last shred of resolve and restraint slipped away, and he took Perry into his arms, sighing deeply, the girl sobbing and hugging him tightly as if her life depended on it. He looked to Bilbo over Perry's shoulder, looking absolutely miserable even though he fought the happiness bursting in his heart to have the maid in his arms.  
  
"I am sorry, Bilbo," he said. "I thought I would be leaving with you today."  
  
"I would have been very disappointed in you if you did, under the circumstances," said Bilbo, eyeing the lass in his nephew's arms.  
  
Frodo got to his feet, bringing Perry up with him, and looked to Elrond, bowing his head. "I'm sorry I've caused this trouble, Lord Elrond."  
  
"There has been no trouble, young Master Frodo," said Elrond. "I will see you soon enough, I think, though it will seem a long while to you. Do not be so hasty to concede your own ruination, for even those gifted by magic do not see all that might come to pass."  
  
"Wise words," said Galadriel. "Be as wise and heed them, Frodo Baggins."  
  
Frodo nodded, barely registering all that happened before him. Gandalf hugged Frodo fondly, and so did Bilbo, and with sad tears Frodo bid them goodbye as they got upon the boat that would lead them away to their own Paradise. A part of his heart yearned to go with them, but the assurance of Elrond that he would indeed go there one day seemed to comfort him. As the boat began to bear away towards the West, Frodo was barely able to hold himself upright as his cousins launched themselves towards him with great hoots, wrapping their arms about him and laughing merrily. Perry was almost crushed beneath their great weight, giggling and hiding against Frodo as the tall fellows slapped his shoulders and back.  
  
"We should buy Perry all the mead she could want!" Pippin cried.  
  
"And all the best cakes!" Merry added. "She helped us keep our cousin!"  
  
Frodo sighed, trying to look stern, happiness too keen in his eyes. "You lot never fail to get me into trouble."  
  
"Wasn't us this time," said Pippin, folding his arms. "Sweet Miss Periwinkle did it all on her own!"  
  
Frodo looked down to Perry, still wrapped in his arms, and nodded. "Yes. I do believe we should talk of this when we get back to… well… wherever we shall live, seeing as I've given all that I own to Sam."  
  
Sam laughed. "Don't be foolish - it's all yours. I have plenty, Sir, plenty without your things."  
  
"Bless you, Sam," said Frodo, stepping to his friend and patting his shoulder fondly. "Then let us not waste any time and let's go home."  
  
Two days later, they arrived home. It was a chill afternoon, and the sun was hidden by thin wispy clouds. Pippin and Merry rode off towards Buckland, singing raucously upon their ponies, triumphant in their ride to the Havens. Sam apologetically retired, and Frodo smiled to him and completely understood, bidding him a fond goodnight. Frodo then rode alone with Perry, the both of them silent, Perry seemingly discomfited by her display at the quay. Upon entering Bag End, Perry set to starting a fire and began to prepare dinner, busying herself so that she didn't have to talk to Frodo. Frodo placed his travelling bag on his table in the sitting room, watching her quietly as she set to work. He thought of what to say, of how to say what he wanted to say. All he could come up with was nothing. He thought that perhaps he should just make a start, for if he said something, the words may form themselves, for good or ill.  
  
"Perry…" he started, but the girl shook her head.  
  
"I don't know what you're going to say, Mr. Frodo. All I know is that I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm makin' you stay here, and I'm sorry I ruined things for you. All I thought of when I went to fetch you was how terribly sad I was." She topped fussing at the table in the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron, stepping forward from behind it into the sitting room. In her cheeks was a deep blush. "I thought, as I came back, that I was selfish, Mr. Frodo. I took you away from going to a wonderful place, and I'm sorry, I really am." Tears began to well in her eyes now.   
  
Frodo sighed, stepping forward and shaking his head, taking her hands in his. "Don't cry, Perry. Please."  
  
"It wasn't till I saw those Elves, those beautiful Elves, that I think I understood." She gazed into his eyes then, tilting her head in wonder. "They were so beautiful, Mr. Frodo. More beautiful than anyone I've ever seen before. How could anything else heal your heart, when you've seen such perfection?"  
  
Luthien Tinuviel, his mind sang softly, as he looked to Perry in the dying light of day, and the golden glow of the fire burning in the fire-place falling on the curve of her jaw. Frodo smiled gently, grazing the back of his knuckles over her cheek.   
  
"There are things that have a beauty not measured by vision alone," he said. "Though in my eyes, their bearing is as graceful as the Queen of all Elven Kind herself." Perry looked confused, and Frodo merely squeezed her shoulder. "I am not angry at you, Perry. Indeed, I am very glad to be staying. You make us some dinner, and I shall put our cloaks and walking sticks away."  
  
Perry smiled slightly, nodding and getting to her tasks at hand, the sheer joy of this evident in her movements. And so it was that Frodo decided to stay at the Shire, despite his journey to the Grey Havens, at least for a little while longer in his mind.   
  
~~*~~ 


	8. Life After the End

Till the End of His Days  
  
Author: nacey  
  
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au  
  
Category: Drama, Romance, AU  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: All six books.  
  
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.  
  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.  
  
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/  
  
~~*~~  
  
Chapter Eight - Life after the End  
  
Frodo could not remember a happier time in his life. Even before he left for his Great Journey and the War of the Rings, he was not so content as he was at New Row with Perry, Sam and Rosie. The ache and the yearning for the Havens slowly faded, and the satisfaction and love for the Shire returned, renewed in his heart. Often Perry would help Rosie look after little Elanor, and sometimes would be walking down the path of New Row with the little one on her hip, singing softly. Mostly she tended to Bag End in her usual manner, spending her free time singing or writing in her little brown book.   
  
Sam had been very busy of late, as he'd taken to helping Will Whitfoot run the town. He was a very efficient fellow, and Will and Sam had become fast friends. Sam was becoming a renowned gardener as Frodo had said, though, he had issue with Perry trying to do any sort of gardening around Bag End, as she wasn't very good at it at all. He allowed her a small vegetable patch out the back of the Hill, which she tended to lovingly every day. Often he'd gripe that old Ferdinand never seemed to want to spray on those plants, but his lovely roses seemed to be a regular target.  
  
It was one weekend when Sam had taken Perry into town to go to the market and visit her mother at the farm that Frodo found himself helping Rosie with the baby whilst she did her laundry. He wasn't used to caring for children, and he wasn't aware how very good with them he was. Elanor took great glee in the rare moments she was treated to a cuddle from her Uncle Frodo, always touching his face with her chubby little hands, giggling at the faces he would pull at her to entertain her. He would animatedly tell her stories he'd seen Bilbo tell to children. Rosie smiled at Frodo from the tub she was washing Sam's clothes in, shaking her head.  
  
"You know, for a bachelor you're awfully good with the children."  
  
Frodo gave Rosie an even (but amused) look and shook his head. Looking to Elanor, he bobbed the child up and down on his knee, talking to her. "Well, little Elanor, it seems everyone in the Shire has ideas about Master Frodo's life, despite Master Frodo's very clear statements to the contrary!"  
  
Rosie rolled her eyes and chuckled. Sam soon returned and said that Perry told him she'd get her own way home that afternoon, so Frodo went back home to write for a while. He had taken to writing again, documenting in detail all that had happened on the way home from Barad-Dur and the fixing of the Shire. He had a smoke of his pipe, resting from his writing, thinking on what he would do that evening once Perry came home. He was fixing himself a cup of tea when the front door opened and closed very quietly. He stuck his head around the archway of the kitchen, frowning in curiosity.  
  
Perry stood by the door, coat in her hands, her large brown eyes staring at the floor blankly. He got up, gazing at her with a worried frown. He felt that something wasn't right, that this wasn't the way Perry was supposed to behave. She should have been singing, smiling, humming, not standing there looking so grieved. She shook herself, putting her cloak away, blinking quickly.  
  
"Perry… whatever is wrong?"  
  
She looked up. For the first time he noticed that her cheeks were blotched and blushed, her eyes rimmed with redness and puffed.   
  
"N-nothing Mr. Frodo," she said meekly, and picking up her basket full of supplies she swept past him into the kitchen.   
  
Frodo was very confused. Usually he heard all about her adventures when she went out for the day. And if anything troubled the girl, she would just tell him, be it her beans dying or Ferdinand's beating up on the cat down the road or some-such. He stood, following her into the kitchen, and she went about her normal daily work, acting as if nothing were the matter at all. The only problem was that she was completely ignoring him, and this wasn't normal in the slightest.  
  
"Perry…"  
  
"Please Mr. Baggins," she said, eyes not leaving her work of pulling out pots, "Don't think on it."  
  
He sighed fitfully. "I can't help it." He stepped forward, and around the table in his kitchen, till he stood next to her before his stove-top. "Why are you crying?"  
  
She shook her head, turning away, striding off into the sitting room. Of course, he followed her, and his heart began to twist in real worry now. He turned her about, meeting her eyes with his own, gazing into her as if her eyes could tell him what distressed her so. He tilted his brows up, feeling utterly helpless in that moment.  
  
"Perry… what's wrong?" he breathed.  
  
She whimpered, pulling away. "Oh, don't do that to me," she moaned, "It isn't fair!"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
She glanced at him, and it seemed every time she did so she would get more upset. Was it something he had done? His heart sank. If it was, he willed that he could take on every touch of pain that tormented her.  
  
"I can't speak of it, Mr. Baggins," she said. "To do so would be unfair on you and a shameful thing indeed." She shook her head again, holding herself as she sat down at the sitting-room table. "But I suppose I must tell you, at least so you know that I'm leaving."  
  
Frodo felt as though someone had punched him swiftly in the stomach as those words left Periwinkle's lips. He reached for something, anything, and ended up finding his table. He needed to sit down, but he couldn't… he wavered on the spot and frowned at Periwinkle.  
  
"Wh- Why? I can't-" He shook his head, and he found himself on his knees beside her, clutching her hands. "Why?"  
  
"I went… I went to the Stead," she said, referring to her home. Guilt swelled in her eyes. "Mother heard about you leavin' me those months back."  
  
"This is my fault, isn't it?" he said, his voice a frightened murmur.   
  
This seemed to make her all the more upset, tears spilling down her face as she looked to him. "Just - just let me finish. Mother never pressed me about bein' here before, Mr. Frodo, but when she heard about what happened she - she," Perry stopped and fought to contain a sob. "She agreed with Father, that I should get myself married. There's a young fellow from the South Barrows, and she says he's as fair as she'd allow, and with a good large farm and they've given him permission to ask me to marry him an'…" She wiped at her face fiercely, trying to swallow the agony welling up in her. "I don't know who we were trying to fool, Mr. Baggins, living in this situation, and it's probably for the best anyway, that this all happens because," She hiccuped then, tears betraying her. "Cause I'm just making you look bad, stayin' here like this, and my feelin's in this situation are inappropriate anyhow. It's why I didn't want to be bringing it up with you, because it makes things awful uncomfortable for you, seeing as I know how you feel about the issue." She nodded, trying to look strong, but he could see it far too clearly in her eyes that she was devastated.  
  
Frodo was feeling something totally new to him, and he hated every moment of it. He was sick, frightened, angry and grief-stricken all at once. His mind would not stop spinning. He would lose her. He would lose her, and it wouldn't do to ask her to stay under the circumstances. She would have to leave him for a while, leave him and go back home to be courted, possibly married. No silly singing in the morning when the eggs were made, no swearing in the garden as she tried so hard to make things grow. No long lazy evenings of writing quietly by the fire together, swapping little snatches of poems and stories. None of it, all of it gone. And worse… what if she fell in love with this lad from the South Barrows? What if she decided she wanted to get married to him? What if she were to be no longer in love with him like he had always assumed she would be? It would be worse than being without her. She would choose to leave him, choose to walk away from him. Poor Frodo could not take hold of in his whirling emotions, and they made every inch of his chest ache without hope of failing. The very thought of Periwinkle being enamoured of any other hobbit than himself made him feel like he was dying from the inside out.  
  
He stood, his mind reeling, his blood like poison, stinging in his veins. Never in his life had he felt so weak, so stricken. His heart pounded like fire, his chest feeling as chalk. He rubbed his eyes, they burned too, and he tried to calm himself, but to no avail. He barely noticed his hands shaking, or the tears welling in his eyes. He leant against his fireplace, as if to stop himself from falling over.  
  
"No…"  
  
"I'm sorry Frodo…" she said, her arms still wrapped about herself. "I'm sorry if I've caused you trouble."  
  
He glanced at her, disbelief falling through him. Had she no idea what she meant to him? Didn't she understand what this was doing to him? He ran his fingers through his curly hair, the action stopping them from shaking any more than they were.  
  
"Trouble? Goodness, Perry, I…" He closed his eyes, clambering for a hold of himself, to be able to say anything that made sense. "I don't want you to go. I don't want you to leave me." He opened his eyes again, unwitting to the imploring look on his pained features. "Ever since you came here, things have been different." He huffed, throwing his hands up and clutching them to his forehead, trying to think. "You… you made me smile again, and for some reason I feel I have hope for something…" He laughed as if it were madness. "The day I came back from my Quest and I was home, and I didn't feel any better, I thought I would never feel it again!" He nearly jumped as the warm splash of tears tumbled down his cheeks. "If you leave, then hope will leave me too, because I will truly have nothing."  
  
Perry looked to Frodo through teary eyes, clutching a handkerchief in her hand. "Frodo!" she moaned, trembling anew. "Please don't do this to me. Don't say these things when I have to leave!" She shook a little more. "It's not right, and it's not fair. You know my heart, you know what your words do to me, and you know how you feel! It is torment! Do you want me to leave after hearing these words from your lips?"   
  
He moaned himself, rushing to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his, pulling the knuckles to his lips. A sudden realisation hit him as he gloried in the sensation of her skin against his lips… he didn't know how he felt, he never had, as he'd been afraid to feel anything since he had returned. And now… now! He could not stop himself from feeling, feeling such a tumultuous range of things that he had never expected to feel in his life. The only thing he was sure of was that she could not leave him. He would not have it.  
  
Frodo's whole world span as he realised what he wanted, what he wanted more than anything. It was madness, for he had long decided he would never do this, that it was not ever for him, but he had never envisaged feeling such a way in his heart, like he did in that moment. He had fought for so long to get a hold on what Perry brought alive in him, what made him feel as though he were just born into the world anew, and he was quietly awed and overwhelmed all at the same time that it could have been the one thing he thought himself incapable of giving her. For the first time in months he thought about Periwinkle being in love with him, with him and only him, and instead of the fearsome flutter in his chest that he had felt so long ago he felt a burst of bliss, of pure happiness that he could not control. It sprang fresh tears to his eyes, his hands shaking wilder at the thought. He had been so afraid, so afraid for her, so afraid of what he would do to her should she be with him too long, should she see the darkness he suffered. He feared not now, because he saw her tears for the life he had nearly left her to, and it broke his soul to see her cry. It touched him beyond words to know that he was all she needed to be happy, that there would never be any darkness for Periwinkle as long as he was with her, and in his heart there was no one else he would have rather been with, no one else he would have delighted in more as his love. He wanted to love her so badly, to be the husband she needed, and he had worried that he was too broken inside. It simply hadn't occurred to him that she didn't need the ideal he had always envisaged for her, that he thought she would be better with. All she wanted was him, and all he wanted was her. It was simple, beautiful, and Frodo would have felt immensely silly for worrying so much about what was expected and proper in a relationship had he not been so inflamed with his adoration of the lass in front of him. He abandoned his restraint. There was no logic in his actions, no wise thought. His heart lead him in that moment, and all he yearned to do was take her in his arms and keep her all to himself. His blood was thick and thrumming in his ears and throat. He took her hands, pressing them against his heart and meeting her eyes in a pinning stare.  
  
"No, Perry, I want you to marry me."  
  
Perry stared at him like he had lost his mind. She was silent, just staring at him.   
  
Frodo fidgeted awkwardly. "Perry?"  
  
She shook her head, standing and weaving about him, striding to the fire. "No, no, no, Mr. Baggins, it won't do, it just won't do!" Her voice was shaking with tears.  
  
He felt the tears in his eyes grow hot again. He wished desperately that she'd for once call him by his first name. "Why not?"  
  
"Oh! Why do you do this to me?! I won't marry for anythin' but love, Mr. Baggins," she whimpered, fiddling her fingers. "I just don't work like that, you see, I can't-"  
  
Frodo laughed. He actually laughed, and then strode over to her, embracing her in his arms and hugging her tightly. "Oh, my dear Periwinkle," he said, caressing her hair with his fingers, burying his face in her shoulder and moaning softly. "Oh dear, dear, Miss Proudfoot." He leant back from the embrace then, the tip of his nose brushing hers, their lips a breath apart. "Can you not hear the love in my voice as I speak to you? Or see it in my eyes?" She opened her mouth to speak, but Frodo went on. "I can't even begin to find the words to tell you- " He gasped, closing his eyes. "I was broken, deep in my heart. You never thought to do anything but heal me." He opened his eyes again. "I couldn't look into your eyes and leave you at the Havens, and I cannot let you leave me now, for my life is empty without you." He gave a helpless smile, tracing her jaw with the tips of his fingers.  
  
He could see in her eyes, so very clearly, that love she had fought to lock away inside her heart. She always seemed to fail, in the entire time he had known her, as it filled him with every moment around her. He knew it, he saw it, and every day it gave him life and he had no clue. Her eyes fell a little lidded, gazing at him with such fear, such vulnerability, her lips quivering so beautifully in thinly veiled desire. He sighed, drawing his knuckles up the side of her face, reason taking its leave of him as he tilted his head, swept down and kissed her. His blood boiled at the contact, living the idle touch that he'd never let himself think on. A wonderful tremble ran though him, deep and tingling.  
  
Perry gasped, a moan in her throat, her little hands clutching his shoulders suddenly. He pulled away quickly, blushing deeply.  
  
She was shocked to silence, and her voice was a huff of emotion. "Mis- mister- oh…" She covered her mouth, shaking as Frodo knelt before her.  
  
"Please, please marry me, Perry. You begged me not to leave you, to let you look after me for always, and I merely ask the same of you."  
  
She tilted her head, sniffling, cheeks stained with tears. "But I'm just your maid-servant, Sir. It's not right."  
  
"I have never cared of these things," he said with a faint smile. "My gardener is my best friend, who I faced the very spectre of death with! Why should I care of your roots? I love all the Shire, all that it is. By every blade of grass in its bounds, I love you."  
  
Perry broke into fresh sobs then, wiping her face with quivering hands. "Oh dear, I quite don't know what to say."  
  
Frodo smiled wider now. "Say yes!"  
  
With something that was half a sob and half a chuckle, Perry took his hands, nodding wildly.  
  
"Of course, yes, of course!" she said, "Oh I never dreamed of such a thing, Mr. Baggins, I never dared!"  
  
Frodo leapt up, pulling her into his arms and hugging her once more, pure relief falling throughout his body. He delighted in the feel of her little arms around him, holding onto him with her all, her little sobs of happiness making his heart soar. She wriggled back, looking to his eyes, and he could feel her shaking nervously.  
  
"Oh, my sweet Perry," he sighed.   
  
Perry blushed, looking down bashfully. "Mr-"  
  
"Under the circumstances, I think it's quite all right for you to call me Frodo now." He smiled. "Not that it wasn't perfectly all right before."  
  
"I'm sorry," she giggled. "I've just gotten so used to callin' you by a proper name."  
  
"Come on," he said, pulling her arm suddenly and leading her to the door, "Let us go tell Sam and Rosie!"  
  
Perry laughed, not used to seeing Frodo act in such a way. She let him lead her along, and getting to the door he turned the knob. The door stayed firmly shut. He fiddled with it again, looking a little perplexed.  
  
"It was sticking this morning, S- er - Frodo."  
  
Frodo frowned, giving it a good pull. The door swung open and he tumbled back, just missing landing on Perry. She knelt next to him, covering her mouth as she fought to contain her laughter.   
  
"Oh, you poor thing."  
  
Frodo merely smiled doggedly, sitting up on the floor, rubbing is elbows. "Come on then, let's be on our way!"  
  
Frodo had not felt so giddy in years and years, and he felt as a child again. He knocked on the door of Sam's hole, struggling not to knock too hard and alarm him. He saw Perry hiding behind him, and he pulled her forward. "Come now, Perry."  
  
"I'm suddenly all embarrassed…"  
  
"Why?"  
  
She laughed and shrugged. "I don't know! It's jus' me, gettin' married!"  
  
When Sam answered the door he was treated to the sight of Frodo trying to get Perry to stand in front of him, the young lass ducking behind him, blushing and giggling. He blinked, shaking his head and scratching it, pipe almost dangling from his mouth.  
  
"Mr. Frodo… is everything quite all right?"  
  
Frodo glanced up from his playful tormenting of his bride-to-be and smiled brightly, hardly able to contain himself. "I should say so, Sam. Is it all right if we come in?"  
  
"Of course, of course," Sam said, stepping back and taking his pipe from his mouth.  
  
It was obvious to both Sam and Rosie that something was up with Frodo and Perry, and Sam was very confused by it all. Rosie looked up from the dinner she had begun to make, smiling warmly as always.  
  
"Well, hullo!" she called. "This is unexpected! What brings you here this evening?"  
  
Frodo looked to Perry with a look similar to that of Ferdinand's when he had a mouth full of mouse, and he puffed his chest proudly. "I asked Perry to marry me."  
  
Rosie's jaw dropped, the spoon in her hand clattering to the table beneath her. She covered her mouth with her hands, gasping and letting out a joyful cry. "Oh Mr. Frodo! It's about time!"  
  
Sam was too busy hugging his best friend and Master tightly with a thoroughly ecstatic grin to say anything, and Perry was soon in the arms of Rosie, being squeezed tightly in a close hug. Rose pulled Perry away, talking of whys and whither-to-fors and other such things, and Sam was left alone with Frodo in the sitting room, little Elanor on his lap.  
  
"Isn't life a wonder, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo smiled, leaning his head in his hands, shaking his head. "It is indeed, Sam."  
  
"What I don't understand," said Sam, "Is why now. Why not before, Sir, if you'll beg my pardon?"  
  
"I thought I had her for always," said Frodo, leaning back in his chair and gazing at Elanor quietly. "I didn't realise that she wasn't really mine, and when I did, I couldn't live on, knowing that." He shook his head slowly again. "I was always… Well I suppose I was afraid, Sam. I'd lost so many things that meant the world to me when I went on our journey. I suppose some piece of my heart thought that if I let her become a part of my life, that I would lose her, or something awful would happen to her. Then I was going to lose her to some fellow, and I couldn't let it happen. I just couldn't. It was then it struck me that I'd been in love with her for some time."  
  
"Aye," nodded Sam, blushing and smiling, his old romantic streak as strong as ever. "Yes, I had heard her folks was askin' her to consider marriage."  
  
"They were," said Frodo, "And she shall get married before they expected. Just, well, not to whom they expected."  
  
Sam smirked, looking to his daughter. "I wonder if they'll like whom Perry has chosen, eh bub?"  
  
Frodo couldn't help but wonder the same thing. After a fine meal shared with the Gamgee's, Perry and Frodo walked down New Row in the waning moonlight, hand in hand, the swift breeze of the early spring night cool about their heels. Frodo felt strange, strange in a way he had never thought he would delight in. Suddenly a part of himself that he had always hidden was on fire once more, living and breathing and burning within him. Perry giggled and spoke of all that her parents had planned for her, and how delighted she was to be able to ruin their plans. Frodo stopped, turning her about.  
  
"Perry…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
He frowned, looking a little worried. "Do you really think this is what your parents had in mind?"  
  
Perry laughed, putting her hands about his elbows and nudging him. "What does it matter? They said I could stay with you till I got married, and I am gettin' married. They never said I couldn't get married to you."  
  
"I know," said Frodo. "Still… I wouldn't want to-"  
  
"Don't worry yourself, Frodo," she said softly, tenderly, in a way she had never really been allowed to before, but, now that she could, warmed Frodo's heart more than he ever thought anything could. "They're my parents, and my problem to deal with. They won't be rude to you, no way, no how. They might ask ye…" She blushed, "Well - you know. Why do you want to marry me daughter, this and that and…" She sighed. "It doesn't matter. I said yes to you, and I never wanted to be by any other hobbit's side. I am yours, Frodo Baggins."  
  
"And I am yours, Periwinkle Proudfoot," he said with a small smile, stroking her cheek, his sky blue eyes locked with her own mahogany brown orbs. Perry smiled, but the smile sobered.   
  
Of a sudden, Frodo felt himself drawn towards her, his heart thumping full and strong in his chest. Perry lifted herself as he leant forward, tilting his head, cradling her jaw gently as he would hold something of great antiquity and value. Her skin was warm and soft as a sun-kissed peach in the summer time. His mind span wildly as he brought his lips down upon hers, the warm touch melting his heart slowly and surely. That feeling of falling he had felt before engulfed him again, and a strange tingling took him as he sank his fingers into her hair. He thought perhaps he was dreaming these perfect feelings within him, and Perry stroked his neck gently before letting the kiss go. Even in the dim light Frodo knew she was blushing, for he knew her well.  
  
"We should get in," she breathed, suddenly bashful and shy. "We… we have much to do tomorrow."  
  
Frodo gave a smile and stroked her hair one more time. "Yes, indeed we do."  
  
They retired to their separate beds with a giddy anticipation of the day to follow. Perry and Frodo would go visit Perry's family to tell them the news, and Frodo was quite anxious as to how the Proudfeet would feel, him marrying their loveliest daughter. It didn't trouble Frodo too much however. When he lay down in bed, making himself comfortable, the sensation of her silky soft lips ran through his mind, and it calmed his heart. For the first time in what felt like ages, the dark didn't trouble him that night.  
  
~~*~~ 


End file.
